TWO    SINNERS 


TWO     SINNERS 


BY 

MRS.   DAVID   G.   RITCHIE 

AUTHOR  OF  "THB  HUMAN  CRY,"  "MAN  AND  THE  CASSOCK, 
"THE  TRUTHFUL  LIAR,"  ETC. 


SECOND   IMPRESSION 


NEW    YORK 
E.   P.    DUTTON    fcf   COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


PRINTED  BY 

WILLIAM  CLOWIS  AND  SONS,   LIMITED, 
LONDON  AND  BECCLE8,   ENGLAND. 


TWO  SINNERS 


CHAPTER  I 

CLOSE  by  the  railings  of  the  Brighton  Parade, 
at  the  unfashionable  end  near  Sussex  Square, 
Maud  Monckton  stood  watching  the  sea  and 
sky.  All  that  February  afternoon  the  sun  had 
been  slipping  very  slowly  down  an  unclouded 
blue  sky  till  at  last  it  reached  the  blue  sea-line. 
Then  a  strange  thing  happened ! 

It  did — actually — seem  to  touch  the  horizon 
line,  and  the  red  globe  suddenly  bulged  out  on 
either  side  as  if  it  was  no  real  planet,  but  some 
monstrous  ball  of  crimson  blood  hanging  in 
our  atmosphere,  actually  touching  the  waters 
of  our  Channel ;  an  awful  portent  of  some 
unexpected  catastrophe. 

Maud  looked  on  amazed  by  the  apparition. 
As  instantaneously  as  thought  flashes  into  being, 
something  within  this  ominous  ball,  something, 
the  heart  of  it — its  nucleus — moved  slowly 
through  its  flaming  bulging  skirts  and  dis- 
appeared into  the  void,  leaving  behind  it  on 
the  horizon  only  the  empty  shallow  crimson 
husk,  the  wreck  of  the  spectator's  own  illusion. 

Maud  still  gazed  motionless,  and  in  another 

B 

2137918 


2  TWO  SINNERS 

moment  this  splendid  husk  shrank,  collapsed  into 
a  narrow  streak  of  fire,  glittered,  and  was  gone, 
gone — both  Truth — and  Illusion. 

The  spell  was  over,  Maud  moved  her  eyes 
at  last  slowly  over  the  sky  and  sea.  The  whole 
sky  glowed  with  what  seemed  to  the  girl's  excited 
imagination  a  deep  troubled  resignation.  The 
sea  lay  before  her  like  a  flat  mucous  expanse  of 
restless  thoughts  giving  expression  to  themselves 
in  shimmering  opalescence. 

It  was  profoundly  melancholy,  that  ending 
to  a  sunny  winter  day ;  though  why  it  was 
melancholy  she  could  not  tell.  She  turned  and 
looked  across  the  road  to  the  houses. 

A  light  flashed  into  a  room  opposite,  and 
looked  out  wistfully  for  a  second,  like  a  human 
eye.  Then  a  blind  came  down  like  an  eyelid 
and  concealed  it.  Another  light  sprang  into 
being  at  another  window,  and  yet  another, 
only  to  be  extinguished  by  some  unseen  hand. 
The  traffic  in  the  road  was  dwindling,  sounds 
were  striking  finely,  sharply,  on  Maud's  ears 
through  the  frosty  air. 

She  turned  back  once  more  to  the  sea.  The 
wonderful  restless  colour  was  fading  out  of  it, 
its  troubled  movements  were  stilled;  physical 
darkness  was  overcoming  them,  and  wrapping 
them  round  with  the  oblivion  of  the  night. 
Maud  shivered  !  It  was  very  cold  !  She  crossed 
the  road  and  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  house 
opposite,  where  she  lodged  with  her  two  sisters. 
Then  she  turned  and  walked  westwards,  keeping 
h.er  eyes  on  the  twinkling  lights  that  ran  out 


TWO  SINNERS  3 

to  the  distant  pier-head  :  thinking  as  she  walked. 
Her  face  with  its  small,  handsome  and  rather 
arrogant  features,  half  hidden  by  her  veil,  were 
full  of  perplexity,  dislike  of  her  present  life, 
doubt  as  to  whether  the  step  she  was  about 
to  take  was  justifiable.  That  step  was — 
marriage. 

She  had  concealed  in  her  muff  a  letter  which, 
if  posted,  would  settle  her  future  decisively. 
The  letter  in  her  muff  was  addressed  to  :  "  Major 
Karnes,  Princes  Hotel,  Hove." 

It  was  an  answer  to  a  letter  from  him,  not 
so  badly  expressed — considering  that  he  must 
have  written  many  love-letters  during  the  twenty 
years  of  his  adolescence,  and  must  have  exhausted 
some  of  the  usual  forms  of  speech.  He  said  that 
he  loved  her,  as  he  had  never  expected  to  be 
able  to  love  any  human  being.  That,  of  course, 
was  not  an  unusual  preliminary.  Then  he  said 
he  knew  that  he  had  faults.  That  sentence 
Maud  resented.  Of  course  he  had  faults !  She 
was  going  to  correct  them  for  him  !  No  ;  what 
he  really  meant  was  to  apologise  for  not  being 
young.  That  fault  could  never  be  corrected, 
alas ! 

He  said  that  his  wealth  had  acquired  a  new 
value  in  his  eyes  because  it  would  enable  him  to 
give  her  a  really  good  time.  Now  this  ex- 
pression a  "  really  good  time  "  jarred  on  her 
pride.  It  was  clear  to  Maud  that  he  considered 
that,  although  on  the  one  side  he  had  faults, 
yet  on  her  side  she  was  having  far  from  a  "  good 
time  "  with  her  two  sisters  in  seaside  lodgings. 


4  TWO  SINNERS 

Major  Kames  was  pluming  himself  on  his  power 
to  give  her  what  she  could  not  get  without  him — 
him — with  all  his  faults. 

Now  Maud  longed  for  a  "  really  good  time," 
but  she  wanted  it  without  the  unnecessary 
obligation  of  being  grateful  to  anybody  for  it— 
because  that  hurt  the  "pride  "  of  which  we  have 
already  spoken.  So  when  she  had  sat  down  in 
her  cold  little  bedroom  looking  over  dismal 
backs,  she  had  taken  pen  in  hand  and  had 
written  to  Major  Kames  in  lofty  style,  as  if  his 
wealth  was  on  the  whole  a  drawback  to  their 
marriage,  and  she  accepted  him  in  spite  of  it. 
Having  written  the  letter,  the  only  question 
was,  should  she  post  it  ?  She  had  been  walking 
on  the  parade  for  nearly  three-quarters  of  an 
hour  and  was  still  racked  with  uncertainty  as 
to  whether  she  disliked  her  present  life  so  keenly 
that  to  escape  it  she  was  willing  to  marry  Major 
Kames. 

So,  his  real  faults  were  that  he  was  forty, 

and  that  he  was — not  exactly — vulgar — but ! 

He  was  one  of  those  men  whose  presence  in  a 
room  can  never  be  ignored.  His  ideas  came  to 
him  spasmodically,  and  were  pronounced  in 
forcible  language.  People  whose  minds  moved 
slowly  considered  him  very  clever  and  a  little 
confusing  ;  but  he  made  them  feel  that  "  some- 
thing was  going  on."  The  air  stirred  when  he 
was  there. 

But  if  Kames  had  faults,  he  had  also  in- 
exhaustible good  humour,  and  a  capacity  for 
keeping  in  order  the  wealth  he  had  inherited. 


TWO  SINNERS  5 

Are  not  these  two  qualities  priceless  in  a 
husband  ? 

So,  what  should  Maud  do  ?  Maud  looked 
little  older  than  twenty- three,  but  she  was  really 
twenty-eight,  perilously  near  twenty-nine.  Time 
was  flying. 

Time  had  already  flown  away  with  her  sister 
Ursula.  Poor  darling  Ursula  with  her  high- 
bridged  nose  and  eyeglasses,  her  face  worn  into 
rather  rigid  lines,  and  her  complexion  dulled 
by  her  forty  years  of  careful  responsibility  and 
her  fight  against  poverty. 

Time  had  only  begun  with  Stella,  their  half- 
sister.  Stella  was  twenty-one,  and  she  had 
always  attracted  men.  Marriage  was  certain 
for  her.  She  had,  indeed,  nearly  captured  Major 
Kames ;  at  least  she  had  discovered  him  at 
a  friend's  house,  she  had  shaken  her  turquoise 
earrings  at  him,  had  monopolised  him,  and 
then  in  an  unlucky  moment  had  tried  the  effect 
of  singing  to  him  in  her  high  soprano,  he  playing 
her  accompaniment.  When  that  performance 
was  over  Major  Kames  had  closed  the  piano — 
rather  a  rude  thing  to  do — and  from  that  moment 
Stella  observed  what  she  ought  to  have  seen 
before,  that  the  wealthy  and  somewhat  flashy 
warrior  was  really  interested  in  Maud. 

It  had  taken  Stella  some  few  days  to  recover 
from  the  shock,  and  when  she  did  recover  she 
fled  from  the  scene  of  her  defeat  to  their 
aunt,  Lady  Dorothy  Broughton.  From  Lady 
Dorothy's  home  in  Brown  Street  she  had  written 
a  letter  to  Ursula,  hinting  mysteriously  that  she 


6  TWO  SINNERS 

thought  younger  sisters,  especially  half-sisters, 
were  sometimes  in  the  way. 

But  the  second  letter  she  had  written  had 
contained  no  pessimistic  remarks,  it  had  been 
cheerful  and  affectionate.  She  had  returned 
home  that  very  afternoon  in  February  of  which 
we  speak,  and  her  blue  eyes  (that  matched  the 
earrings)  looking  enigmatic. 

Maud  having  written,  but  not  yet  having 
posted,  the  letter  to  Major  Kames,  wondered— 
hoped — that  Stella  had  forgiven  her. 

The  letter  was  not  yet  posted.  It  lay  in 
Maud's  muff,  and  the  more  Maud  thought  about 
it  the  more  difficult  it  was  to  decide  whether  it 
should  be  posted  at  all. 

One  thing  only  was  absolutely  clear  to  her. 
She  hated  Brighton,  and  every  day  it  became 
more  likely  that  Ursula  would  discover  a  house 
that  would  be  cheap  enough  for  them  to  take 
and  settle  in.  Maud  could  picture  the  sort  of 
house — in  a  side  street,  overlooking  other  small 
houses.  There  would  certainly  be  euonymus 
bushes  in  front  and  behind,  and  a  square  of 
dank  grass  called  by  the  house-agent — a  garden. 
They  would  have  one  maid,  of  that  non-humorous 
kind,  who,  being  unable  to  do  anything,  under- 
takes to  do  everything. 

Maud  could  picture  Ursula,  counting  the 
pence,  almost  counting  the  coals.  She  would, 
if  any  one  could,  make  the  small  income  left  to 
her  unconditionally  by  their  father,  General 
Monckton,  go  as  far  as  possible ;  her  aim  being 
always  to  let  Maud  and  Stella  have  their  own 


pensions  entirely  for  their  clothes.  Maud  could 
imagine  Ursula  sitting  by  the  dining-room  table, 
working  the  sewing-machine  vigorously,  oblivious 
of  the  dreariness  of  their  surroundings,  happy  in 
making  clothes  for  Stella.  Maud  could  imagine 
Stella,  who,  in  spite  of  both  sisters'  help  and 
constant  gentle  admonitions,  was  always  shabby 
under  her  finery — she  could  imagine  Stella 
talking  about  the  distinguished  musical  career 
that  she  ought  to  find  waiting  for  her,  and  mean- 
while making  the  cramped  house  still  more 
cramped  by  evolving,  Heaven  knows  how,  an 
inexplicable  confusion  out  of  order,  wherever 
she  moved.  It  was  Stella's  habit  to  sleep  in  her 
turquoise  earrings  ;  the  only  way  to  be  sure  of  not 
losing  them. 

Maud  could  imagine  that  "  home  "  of  theirs. 
To  settle  down  in  such  surroundings  seemed  like 
giving  up  youth,  hope,  romance.  Maud  had 
walked  some  little  distance  along  the  house  side 
of  the  parade,  and  was  opposite  a  pillar-box. 
She  had  only  to  put  the  letter  to  Major  Kames 
into  that  box,  and  she  would  have  Orpenden 
House  in  Surrey  as  her  home — only — and  there 
was  the  point — only  with  Major  Kames  as  her 
husband. 

What  had  Maud  done  that  she  should  have 
found  no  man  to  love  her  but  Major  Kames  ? 
Should  she  brave  the  future,  share  Ursula's 
home  and  poverty,  and  try  to  make  the  best 
of  it  ? 

Maud  fingered  the  letter  in  her  muff.  Why 
had  she  not  written  a  letter  of  refusal  and  put 


8  TWO  SINNERS 

both  in  her  muff,  so  that  she  could  post  one  or 
the  other  ?  She  had  only  written  one  letter — 
accepting  Major  Kames.  That  looked  as  if, 
down  within  the  depths  of  her  heart,  she  meant 
to  accept  him,  and  all  these  arguments  were  only 
meant  to  silence  the  conscience  that  clamoured 
for  some  justifiable  course  of  action,  and  urged 
that  the  moral  nature  must  be  satisfied. 

Maud  drew  out  the  letter.  The  envelope  was 
beginning  to  get  a  little  bent.  No  wonder ! 
Would  it  be  a  great  shock  to  Ursula  if  she 
married  Major  Kames  ?  Had  Ursula  any  sus- 
picions that  she  meant  to  accept  Major  Kames  ? 
Ursula  had  behaved  all  through  as  if  there  could 
be  no  question  of  anything  serious  between  her 
and  Major  Kames.  Maud  had  always  known, 
but  she  had  refused  to  recognise  the  truth  till 
this  moment  when  it  rushed  peremptorily  through 
her  mind,  that  Ursula  had  taken  for  granted 
that  Maud  would  never  dream  of  marrying 
Major  Kames  !  And  yet  in  the  first  few  days 
of  their  acquaintance  with  him,  when  Stella 
monopolised  him  and  raved  about  him,  Ursula 
had  not  disapproved  — she  had  even  allowed  that 
he  was  wonderfully  genial.  But  when  Kames 
had  shown  his  cards,  and  had  openly  paid 
attention  to  Maud,  Ursula  had  observed  a 
sudden  reticence  in  her  behaviour  towards 
him.  Was  it  because  she  thought  him  a 
worldling  ? 

The  hot  blood  rushed  to  Maud's  head  as  she 
stood,  letter  in  hand,  by  the  pillar-box.  Ursula 
had  always  expected  more  of  her  than  of  Stella — 


TWO  SINNERS  9 

more  self-control,  more  refinement.  Was  that 
fair  ? 

General  Monckton's  second  marriage  had 
been  with  a  charming,  emotional,  weak  little 
woman  who  had  died  at  Stella's  birth.  Ursula 
had  brought  the  child  up  from  its  cradle,  taking 
for  granted,  somehow,  that  she  would  not  be  a 
real  Monckton  in  character,  and  must  have 
allowances  made  for  that  fact.  So  Stella  might 
marry  a  worldling  and  be  excused,  but  Maud 
might  not.  Was  that  fair  ? 

Maud  put  the  letter  back  in  her  muff.  She 
must  not  stand  still  in  the  growing  dusk,  attract- 
ing attention  to  herself — she  must  walk  on.  She 
would  walk  a  little  and  then  come  back  again 
and  post  the  letter. 

Now,  what  exactly  was  wrong  with  Major 
Kames  ?  She  would  think  it  over  carefully. 
His  father  had  been  a  successful  tradesman. 
Very  well.  Many  of  our  peers  are  only  too  glad 
to  marry  into  tradesmen's  families.  Kames  had 
left  the  Army.  Yes,  but  it  was  necessary,  his 
property  needed  looking  after  ;  there  was  nothing 
improper  in  that.  Then  he  did  most  things 
well,  business  matters  especially  ;  he  was  a  good 
sportsman,  expert  at  cards ;  he  was  a  bit  of  a 
real  musician.  All  this  was  surely  in  his  favour. 
Then  he  was  good-natured  to  the  very  core. 
Yes — yes — but  he  was  not  "  serious,"  and  he 
had  not  one  scrap  of  what  is  called  "  spiritual " 
in  him.  Maud,  in  imagination,  as  she  walked 
along,  could  almost  hear  him,  in  his  low,  rapid 
voice,  saying,  "  I  know  what  you  mean  by 


10  TWO  SINNERS 

emotional,  or  what  you  mean  by  intellectual,  but 
what  the  deuce  do  you  mean  by  spiritual  ?  " 

Major  Kaines  called  himself  an  "  on  the  whole 
Agnostic,"  but  Maud  suspected  that  a  practical 
and  personal  observation  of  human  life  had  led 
him  to  believe  that  there  was  no  Deity  super- 
intending the  march  of  the  universe.  Yes,  but 
Maud's  father,  General  Monckton,  had  been 
actually  anti-religious,  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
Major  Kaines  had  no  objection  to  going  to  church 
— on  occasions.  For  instance,  Maud  was  certain 
that  he  would  want  to  be  married  by  an  Anglican 
priest,  and  that  he  would  ridicule  the  idea  of  a 
purely  secular  ceremonial  in  a  registry  office, 
]ust  as  he  woidd  object  to  going  into  a  vegetarian 
restaurant. 

The  lighted  pier  and  the  long  line  of  lamp- 
posts were  growing  more  and  more  sharp  and 
starlike — though  the  night  was  not  dark. 

As  she  walked,  a  man  passed  her  leading  a 
black  greyhound  on  a  leash,  and  close  behind, 
though  loose,  trotted  a  second  greyhound  exactly 
like  the  first.  The  pair  wore  little  tan  coats, 
both  had  their  long  thin  faces  meekly  bent,  their 
tails  curled  humbly  under  their  slender  bodies, 
and  they  moved  with  a  curiously  light  elastic 
step  as  if  scarcely  needing  to  touch  the  pavement, 
all  their  amazing  power  of  swiftness  subdued  to 
lowly  obedience. 

They  were  so  gentle  and  so  disciplined  that 
Maud  strained  her  eyes  after  them  sympatheti- 
cally. How  much  happier,  how  much  simpler. 
life  would  be  if,  like  the  dog,  one  could  find  some 


TWO  SINNERS  11 

higher  being  visible  to  the  eight  and  touch, 
whose  will  one  could  trust  absolutely !  As  it 
was,  God  and  immortality  were  uncertain ; 
perhaps  all  our  moral  struggles  might  end  in — 
nothing ;  perhaps  those  who  enjoyed  this  life 
to  the  full  were  really  the  wisest  ? 

As  she  walked,  looking  into  the  dusk  as  far 
as  her  sight  would  reach,  she  suddenly  became 
aware  of  a  figure  coming  towards  her.  It  was 
impossible  to  mistake  that  walk.  The  walk 
was  that  of  high  and  deliberate  respectability. 
It  was  Ursula.  She  had  just  come  out  of  St. 
Cuthbert's  from  one  of  Father  Fitzherbert's 
Lenten  addresses.  The  figure  became  more 
distinct.  Now  Maud  could  see  that  it  was  tall 
and  angular.  She  could  see  the  familiar  black 
leather  bag  in  which  Ursula  carried  a  book  of 
devotions,  her  purse,  and  sundry  keys.  Ursula 
had  never  fallen  under  her  father's  influence ; 
she  was  of  a  type  peculiar  to  England,  a  type  that 
forms  the  very  backbone  of  the  race,  self-con- 
trolled in  every  act  and  thought,  religious, 
austerely  and  unattractively  dressed. 

Should  Maud  turn  and  fly,  and  fling  her  letter 
into  the  pillar-box  as  she  passed  it  ?  There 
was  time,  for  Ursula  was  short-sighted. 

No,  to  fly  from  Ursula  would  be  a  silly  thing 
—a  sort  of  cowardice.  If  Maud  married  Major 
Kames,  well,  she  would  marry  him,  and  brave  it 
out.  She  would  post  the  letter  at  that  pillar- 
box  ;  she  would  slip  it  in  before  Ursula's  very 
eyes,  though  she  would  not  explain,  say  to  whom 
it  was  addressed,  just  then — not  just  immediately. 


12  TWO  SINNERS 

"  How  delightful  of  you  to  come  to  meet  me !  " 
said  Ursula,  now  face  to  face  with  her  sister. 

Maud  turned  without  answering,  for  she  felt 
a  sudden  lump  in  her  throat.  She  passed  her 
arm  through  her  sister's. 

"  How  light  it  is  !  the  moon  must  have  risen," 
said  Ursula. 

"  I've  been  watching  the  sunset,"  said  Maud, 
"  while  you've  been  listening  to  the  exciting 
oratory  of  Father  Fitzherbert." 

"  He  talks  very  quietly,"  said  Ursula.  "  I 
wish  you  could  come  with  me  next  Friday." 

"  I  would,  dear,  only  I  can't,"  said  Maud  ; 
"  I  can't  go  and  add  one  more  to  the  crowd  of 
women  who  listen  to  him  and  worship.  I  don't 
like  these  spiritual  men,  they  get  too  much 
flattery  from  women."  She  spoke  with  a  certain 
bitterness,  because  the  thought  of  Major  Kames 
lay  behind  the  word  "  spiritual."  "  I'm  quite 
sure  that  all  of  them — except  you — would  give 
anything  to  drag  him  down  to  the  level  of  a 
sacerdotal  flirtation." 

"  Poor  things  !  "  murmured  Ursula.  "  Maud, 
do  you  know  I  went  to  look  at  a  house  before 
going  into  church  !  " 

Maud's  heart  began  to  beat  swiftly. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  did  you  ?  " 

"  A  little  house,  next  the  corner  one  in 
Athelstane  Place.  It  faces  west,  and  it  is  three 
minutes  from  St.  Cuthbert's." 

"  Oh,"  said  Maud. 

"  And  the  rent — what  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  really  can't  guess,"  said  Maud. 


TWO  SINNERS  13 

"  Thirty-five  pounds,"  said  Ursula,  but  her 
voice  had  changed — it  was  tentative,  she  saw 
that  something  was  wrong. 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Maud  — "  thirty-five 
pounds ! " 

"  A  little  garden  behind,"  said  Ursula 
slowly. 

"  Euonymus  bushes  in  front  ?  "  said  Maud 
desperately. 

"  No,  behind,"  said  Ursula. 

"  And  what  in  front  ?  " 

"  Nothing  in  front  except  an  iron  paling." 

"  Oh,"  said  Maud. 

There  came  a  break  in  the  line  of  the  parade 
and  a  side  street.  A  large  motor-brougham  was 
turning  off  the  parade  into  the  side  street,  so 
the  sisters  had  to  pause  for  a  moment  at  the  edge 
of  the  curb,  while  it  passed  them. 

The  moon  had  suddenly  appeared  above  the 
roof  of  the  houses,  and  its  broad  light  flooded 
the  parade  and  the  sea.  The  tide  was  going 
down,  and  some  low  rocks  were  visible  at  the 
surface  of  the  water.  The  two  sisters  looked 
across  the  road  at  the  shimmering  silver  of  the 
sea  and  these  black  shining  patches,  and,  as 
they  did  so,  they  could  see  clearly  a  man's  figure 
striding  along  by  the  parade  railings.  Maud 
shrank  into  herself.  Ursula  glanced  away.  Here 
was  the  very  man  who  was  troubling  both  their 
thoughts.  It  was  Major  Kames !  His  soft 
felt  hat  was  tilted  over  his  eyes.  In  spite  of  the 
training  of  his  youth,  he  slouched  a  little. 

He  had  seen  them  and  raised  his  hat,  and  for 


14  TWO  SINNERS 

the  flash  of  a  moment  they  saw  his  strong,  fleshy 
features  and  black  hair.  Maud  thought  she 
saw  his  brown,  staring  eyes.  Something  in  his 
presence,  though  so  far  off,  made  her  shiver. 
She  felt  Ursula's  arm  stiffen  slightly.  He  walked 
on,  and  the  two  sisters  crossed  the  road  to  the 
opposite  pavement.  Here  stood  the  pillar-box. 
Maud  had  now  decided  that  she  would  pass  it 
without  posting  her  letter. 

"  We  could  get  the  house  at  the  quarter- 
that  is,  in  six  or  seven  weeks'  time,"  said  Ursula 
with  a  slight  break  in  her  voice.  "  It  would 
be  a  good  thing  to  settle  as  quickly  as  we  can, 
because  our  lodgings  are  expensive,  and  I  really 
need  all  the  money  I  can  save  for  our  start. 
Even  though  we  have  enough  furniture  to  more 
than  fill  the  house,  there  are  a  hundred  small 
expenses — carpets  altering  and  so  on." 

"  I've  got  a  letter  to  post,"  interrupted  Maud. 
"  I  mean " 

She  almost  stumbled  against  Ursula  as  she 
spoke. 

"  I  don't  know  that  it  matters  much,"  she 
said.  "  Let's  see  what  is  the  next  delivery  ? 
Six  o'clock  ?  It's  past  that  already." 

Ursula  had  stopped  and  was  looking  at  her 
sister.  Maud  was  fumbling  with  a  letter  at  the 
box  opening,  as  if  she  couldn't  find  it.  She  was 
rapidly  making  up  her  mind  now,  for  the  last 
time.  If  she  accepted  Major  Kames  she  would 
soon  find  out  whether  he  was  endurable,  and  if 
he  proved  unendurable  she  could  break  off  the 
engagement.  It  would  be  quite  fair,  for  how  on 


TWO  SINNERS  15 

earth  is  one  to  tell  beforehand  ?    Now,  that  was 
her  decision — it  was  final ! 

She  slipped  the  letter  in,  and  heard  it  drop 
to  the  bottom  of  the  box. 

It  was  done ! 

She  went  back  to  Ursula  and  took  her  arm 
again  ;  her  cheeks  burned  like  fire,  and  her  feet 
moved  feverishly.  Ursula  said  no  more  about 
the  little  house  at  thirty-five  pounds  a  year  ! 
She  was  silent,  till  at  last  she  said  : 

"  You  never  met  Aunt  Dorothy's  nephew 
by  marriage,  Dr.  George  Broughton,  Maud  ?  " 

Ursula's  voice  sounded  as  though  she  was 
forcing  herself  to  speak. 

"  No,"  said  Maud,  "  not  that  I  remember." 

"  Stella  met  him  at  Aunt  Dorothy's.  He  was 
at  Cambridge  ;  he's  now  got  some  science  post 
in  London.  He's  here,  at  Brighton,  just  for 
one  night,  I  believe,  and  Stella  has  asked  him 
to  come  to  see  us  this  evening." 

The  two  women  walked  on  together  in  silence. 

So  this  explained  Stella's  enigmatic  look 
when  she  arrived !  Had  she  been  travelling 
clown  with  Dr.  George  Broughton  ?  Had  Stella 
possibly  consoled  herself  for  the  loss  of  Major 
Kames  ?  "  Men,  men,  men,  always  men,"  sighed 
Maud.  And  what  of  Ursula,  for  whom  no  man 
cared  ? 

They  walked  into  their  lodgings,  up  the  narrow 
stairs,  and  went  into  their  sitting-room.  The 
lights  were  not  turned  on.  Stella  was  there  in  a 
low  chair  by  the  fire,  smoking  a  cigarette. 
Although  she  found  punctuality  impossible,  and 


16  TWO  SINNERS 

also  unnecessary,  she  was  already  dressed  for 
the  evening,  and  yet  it  was  not  half-past  six ! 
Her  black  hair  was  very  carefully  arranged  with 
elaborate  combs,  she  was  wearing  her  blue  satin 
dress,  her  blue  earrings  of  course,  and  she  was 
stretching  out  a  pair  of  very  smart  shoes  to  the 
blaze.  Shadows  flickered  over  Stella's  face, 
dimming  its  clear  freshness  ;  the  dimples  in  her 
cheeks  deepened  a  little  as  she  turned  her  head 
and  looked  at  her  step-sisters. 

'*  You  look  as  if  you'd  both  been  converted," 
she  remarked,  as  she  blew  a  puff  of  smoke  into 
the  air. 

Maud  took  off  her  gloves  and  veil  with 
deliberate  care.  She  had  now  a  part  to  play, 
and  she  must  control  her  emotions. 

"  So  we  look  like  that,  do  we  ?  "  she  replied. 
She  glanced  into  the  mirror  over  the  mantelpiece. 
She  saw  there  in  the  uncertain  moving  light  and 
darkness  her  own  face,  the  small,  well-cut,  proud 
features,  clear,  pale  complexion,  hair  and  eyes 
a  light  brown.  She  could  see  the  unusual  flush 
on  her  cheeks,  and  she  put  up  both  her  hands  to 
them. 

"  I  haven't  been  to  hear  Father  Fitzherbert," 
she  said.  As  she  spoke  she  turned  and  looked  at 
Ursula,  who  had  remained  standing  behind  her, 
silent. 

Was  it  only  the  firelight  that  gave  her  sister's 
face  that  grey  look,  and  brought  out  all  the  lines 
in  her  face  ? 

"  Have  you  been  listening  to  that  man  all 
this  afternoon,  poor  dear  ?  "  asked  Stella,  looking 


TWO  SINNERS  17 

first  at  Ursula  and  then  at  her  cigarette-end 
attentively. 

Maud  moved  away  to  the  door. 

"  No,"  said  Ursula,  "  I  was  looking  at  a 
house — first." 

"  A  house  !  "  said  Stella.  '  Yes,  of  course." 
She  stared  into  the  fire  and  began  smoking  again, 
and  Maud  opened  the  door  and  went  out. 


CHAPTER  II 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  Maud  slipped  away 
and  went  to  her  room.  The  conversation  had 
been  mostly  in  Stella's  hands.  She  had  told  her 
rather  silent  half-sisters  the  latest  news  about 
their  Aunt  Dorothy  and  her  dog — the  dog  that 
had  partially  consoled  her  after  the  death  of  her 
husband,  Mr.  Broughton ;  the  dog  that  every- 
body except  Lady  Dorothy  thought  an  intolerable 
nuisance. 

Maud  had  laughed  a  good  deal,  and  now  she 
was  thankful  that  dinner  was  over.  But  there 
was  still  the  evening  to  get  through  and  George 
Broughton  to  meet,  and  it  flashed  across  her 
mind  that  if  Major  Kames  got  her  letter  by  the 
nine  o'clock  post  there  was  nothing  to  prevent 
his  coming  at  ten,  and  then — Maud's  hands 
grew  as  cold  as  ice. 

Almost  unconsciously  through  her  father's 
influence,  Maud  had  very  early  in  life  dropped 
the  old-fashioned  optimism  of  orthodox  Christi- 
anity, which  pictures  this  life  as  a  racecourse, 
and  the  future  life  as  a  goal  where  a  prize  awaits 
each  human  soul  if  it  cares  to  strive  for  it. 
Almost  without  mental  effort  she  had  adopted 
the  more  fashionable  optimism  of  the  present 
day — the  belief  that  we  are  running,  not  a  race, 
but  a  helter-skelter,  merely  for  the  sake  of 


TWO  SINNERS  19 

running,  and  because  evolution  has  provided 
us  with  legs. 

While  she  was  still  in  the  buoyancy  of  her 
youth  she  considered  her  sister  Ursula's  desire 
for  personal  immortality  an  unnecessary  weak- 
ness. Maud  thought  it  strange  and  more  sensible 
for  Humanity  to  want  nothing  better  than  to 
run  from  somewhere  to  nowhere  in  particular. 
Why  shouldn't  people  enjoy  climbing  a  ladder 
that  has  a  sort  of  a  kind  of  a  bottom,  but  no 
top  ?  It  showed  a  proper  sort  of  courage  ! 

Any  doubt  as  to  the  satisfactoriness  of  this 
form  of  exercise  she  called  pessimism,  for  was 
not  mere  living  a  hazy  sunshine  of  joyful  possi- 
bilities ?  She  called  Ursula  playfully,  'The 
Pessimist."  But  as  time  went  on  this  misty 
youthful  happiness  melted  away,  and  left  her 
face  to  face  with  a  hard  bare  fact  that  she  had 
not  anticipated — her  girlhood  had  gone  for  ever. 
What  had  that  to  do  with  "  Life  "  ?— why  did 
that  matter  ?  It  did  matter,  horribly.  At 
every  step  of  the  past  she  had  been  attended 
by  a  kind  of  sympathetic  interest  that  the  world 
takes  in  a  pretty  unmarried  girl.  In  a  year  or 
two,  the  world  would  pass  her  by  with  that 
peculiar  sort  of  indifference  that  is  meted  out  to 
the  "  superfluous  woman." 

Why  should  she  mind  that  ?  Why  should 
people  mind  being  ignored  \  It  doesn't  prevent 
them  from  running  from  "  somewhere  to  nowhere 
in  particular." 

When  she  had  to  tell  Ursula  of  her  engage- 
ment, could  she  say  that  she  had  accepted  Major 


20  TWO  SINNERS 

Kames  in  order  to  escape  from  a  haunting  fear 
of  dying  husbandless  and  childless  ?  In  other 
words,  that  the  optimism  she  had  boasted  of 
did  not  go  very  deep  ? 

Could  she  confess  this  to  any  man  or  woman  ? 
Certainly  not,  and  least  of  all  could  she  confess 
it  to  Ursula,  because  it  would  wound  her  to  the 
heart.  Maud's  thoughts  flashed  over  the  lives 
of  the  unmarried  women  she  knew ;  almost  all, 
except  Ursula's,  seemed  to  her  obviously  cramped 
by  the  repression  of  the  great  human  emotions. 
Ursula  believed  that  a  Father  in  Heaven  watched 
over  her — that  gave  her  courage. 

Why  could  not  Maud  beheve  that  ?  Maud 
paced  up  and  down  her  room  :  all  that  she  could 
believe  was  that  Man  has  emerged  painfully  from 
an  unknown  past,  and  has  found  a  sinister 
welcome  awaiting  him : 

"  Time  with  a  gift  of  tears ! 
Grief  with  a  glass  that  ran — '* 

Maud  heard  the  front-door  bell  ring.  Her 
heart  stood  still.  It  could  not  be  Major  Kames  ! 
Her  letter  could  not  have  reached  him  yet,  and 
he  would  not  dare  to  call  until  he  knew  what  that 
letter  contained.  She  could  hear  a  light  step 
on  the  stairs  and  a  voice,  very  different  from 
Major  Kames's,  say  to  the  maid:  "Mr.  Brough- 
ton."  He  must  be  tall  and  interesting-looking, 
with  that  voice. 

She  went  to  the  mirror  and  looked  at  herself. 
Tears  that  had  tried  to  come  she  had  beaten 
back,  her  eyes  were  dry,  her  cheeks  as  flushed 


TWO  SINNERS  21 

as  they  had  been  before  dinner.  She  felt  nervous 
and  excited.  Before  going  into  the  sitting-room 
should  she  ring  the  bell  and  tell  the  maid  not  to 
admit  Major  Kames  if  he  called  ?  That  would 
be  a  strange  way  of  treating  the  man  you  have 
just  promised  to  accept  as  your  husband  !  She 
sat  down  at  a  little  table  and  scribbled  off  a 
note  : 

"  DEAR  MAJOR  KAMES, 

"  I  have  not  told  my  sisters  yet  of  our 
engagement.  Will  you  come  to-morrow  and 
see  me  ? 

"  Yours  ever, 

"MAUD  MONCKTON." 

Was  "  Yours  ever "  the  proper  thing  to 
write  ?  It  certainly  was  not  too  cordial.  "  Yours 
affectionately "  would  sound  silly  and  wasn't 
true.  No  doubt  people  in  love  were  able  to 
invent  something  suitable.  '  Yours  ever  "  must 
stand.  It  wasn't  actually  a  lie — she  was  "  Yours 
ever  "  of  a  sort. 

She  folded  up  the  note  and  addressed  it. 
Then  she  rang  the  bell  and  gave  the  letter  to  the 
maid  and  told  her  to  give  it  to  Major  Kames  if 
he  called.  Now  she  was  safe — till  to-morrow. 

Now  she  would  go  and  see  what  this  cousin 
of  theirs  was  like.  He  was  the  nearest  approach 
to  a  cousin  she  and  her  sisters  had :  would  she 
when  she  saw  him  really  feel  envious  of  Stella  ? 
How  young,  how  full  of  energy,  how  cultured 
that  voice  had  sounded  !  She  left  her  room. 


22  TWO  SINNERS 

She  could  hear  his  voice  in  their  sitting-room, 
he  was  talking  just  as  if  he  was  describing  some- 
thing. The  mere  sound  was  extraordinarily 
pleasant — empty  sound  as  it  was.  She  turned 
the  handle  of  the  door  and  went  in. 

He  was  standing  in  front  of  the  fire,  between 
Stella  and  Ursula,  who  were  seated  on  either  side, 
Stella  doing  nothing,  Ursula,  as  usual,  working. 

He  was  tall,  and  erect,  and  slim ;  his  face 
when  Maud  entered  was  bent  towards  Stella. 

He  raised  his  head  instantly  and  glanced 
across  at  the  newcomer,  with  eyes  that  looked 
out  from  under  level  brows,  eyes  that  were 
speculative,  almost  wistful.  It  was  a  face  full  of 
ability,  though  highly  nervous,  regular  in  features, 
dark,  with  thick  brown  hair  growing  low  on  a 
broad  brow. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  be,"  he  said,  coming 
forward  to  shake  hands  with  Maud,  "  your  aunt 
Dorothy's  husband's  brother's  second  son." 

He  was  smiling,  but  his  eyes  widened  with 
an  expression  that  meant  surprise  and  approba- 
tion. Perhaps  he  had  expected  Maud  to  look 
like  Ursula — taking  for  granted  that  Stella 
would  have  two  plain  step-sisters,  like  Cinderella 
in  the  fairy  story. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Maud.  "  It's  very  odd 
that  we  have  never  seen  you  before,"  and  she 
turned  away  and  looked  about  for  a  chair. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  chairs  in  the  room,  and 
yet  the  room  was  full  of  chairs. 

Broughton  moved  forward  with  a  rapid, 
graceful  movement,  and  seizing  a  chair  pulled 


TWO  SINNERS  23 

it  just  opposite  to  the  hearth-rug,  so  that  now 
when  he  went  back  to  his  position  against  the 
mantelpiece  he  looked  down  on  a  little  triangle 
of  women. 

Maud  seated  herself  demurely.  She  stared 
for  a  moment  at  her  own  lap,  then  at  as  much  of 
the  fire  as  she  could  see  on  each  side  of  Brough- 
ton's  legs,  and  then  finally  up  at  his  face,  and 
this  was  what  her  eyes  had  intended  all  along, 
for  it  fascinated  her. 

He  was  again  looking  down  at  Stella,  and 
Stella,  leaning  back  in  her  low  chair,  with  her 
turquoise  earrings  slanting  into  her  hair,  wore 
an  air  of  gentle  self-righteousness  touched  with 
sorrow  for  the  world  that  had  not  understood 
her  talent.  Maud  knew  the  expression  well. 
It  appeared  whenever  Stella  was  conscious  of 
being  admired. 

Maud's  eyes  glanced  over  Stella's  blue  satin 
to  her  blue  stockings  and  the  shimmer  of  the 
smart  shoes  that  covered  up  a  neat  darn,  a  darn 
made  by  Maud  herself,  for  Stella  frankly  pre- 
ferred holes.  So  Stella  knew  that  she  was  being 
admired ;  what  were  her  feelings  to  George 
Brought  on  in  return  ? 

"  Go  on  talking,"  said  Ursula,  glancing  up 
from  her  work  at  her  new-found  cousin. 

'  I'm  afraid  I've  been  shamelessly  egotistical," 
said  Broughton,  glancing  at  Maud  with  an  air 
of  apology,  "  but  I've  been  spoiled  long  ago  by 
the  interest  Stella  takes  in  science,  and  have 
been  dosing  her  and  Ursula  with  my  new  work 
at  the  laboratory  before  you  came  in." 


24  TWO  SINNERS 

Stella  interested  in  science !  Maud  was 
amazed  at  the  news.  Nothing  in  the  world 
bored  Stella  so  much  as  anything  to  do  with 
science,  or  religion,  or  what  she  called  "  stodge." 

"  Science  is  too  thrilling,"  said  Stella,  and  the 
dimples  in  her  cheeks  grew  very  deep. 

"  I'm  sure  it  is,"  said  Maud,  with  a  slight 
smile ;  "it  must  be  thrilling  to  feel  that  you 
and  you  only  have  got  a  key  to  the  universe." 

Broughton  turned  his  eyes  away  from  the 
direction  of  Stella's  dimples  and  slowly  looked 
Maud  over.  But  he  was  not  really  thinking  of 
her,  his  mental  vision  was  of  something  in  the 
distance,  beyond  her. 

"It's  not  so  easy  now  to  think  you've  got  a 
key  to  the  universe.  That's  been  thought  too 
often,"  he  said.  "  Mathematics  were  to  solve 
everything,  then  physics,  then  physical  chemistry, 
then  thermo-dynamics.  Whenever  a  fresh  push 
is  made  in  one  department  of  science  the  pioneers 
are  disposed  to  take  themselves  too  seriously." 

'  It's  human  nature,"  said  Maud,  "  to  take 
oneself  seriously  if  anybody  can  be  induced  to 
listen  to  one  for  half  a  minute." 

"  Aren't  you  rather  hard  on  human  nature  ?  " 
said  Broughton,  smiling.  "  Anyhow,  the  more 
advanced  any  branch  of  science  becomes,  the 
more  we  expect  it  to  solve  the  problem  of  life  or 
of  matter ;  and  yet  this  problem  grows  not 
simpler,  but  more  and  more  complex,  so  that, 
instead  of  being  able  to  smooth  things  out  and 
reduce  everything  to  some  universal  principle, 
the  very  reverse  is  taking  place — we  are  busy 


TWO  SINNERS  25 

making  confusion  worse  confounded.  The  fact 
is  that  now  that  the  light  of  science  burns  more 
brightly,  we  are  becoming  conscious  for  the 
first  time  of  the  increasing  vastness  of  the  dark 
that  surrounds  us,  the  mystery  of  the  universe 
in  which  we  find  ourselves.  The  more  we  know 
the  more  we  become  aware  that  we  really  know 
nothing." 

Maud  looked  up  at  him.  This  man  had 
probably  no  more  belief  in  immortality,  or  Christ, 
than  had  Major  Kames,  but  his  unbelief  was 
tinged  with  reverence — that  was  in  itself  a  sort 
of  religion — perhaps — all  the  religion  that  any 
one  has  a  right  to  have.  And — George  Brough- 
ton looked  so  young.  Maud  could  not  help 
picturing  him  and  Major  Kames  standing  to- 
gether— Major  Kames  ! 

The  silence  was  broken  by  an  exclamation 
from  Stella. 

"  How  intensely  exciting  your  work  must  be  ! 
I  just  wonder  that  you  can  spare  the  time  to 
eat  or  sleep." 

Broughton  burst  out  laughing.  He  was 
delighted  at  the  remark,  though  to  Maud  it 
seemed  a  very  silly  one. 

Maud  shrank  into  herself  and  was  silent. 
If  Stella  had  said  "  Bo,"  he  evidently  would 
have  been  equally  pleased.  He  would  doubtless 
have  discovered  some  strange  grace  and  in- 
telligence lurking  in  that  ejaculation  that  had 
escaped  the  world's  consciousness  all  these  many 
years. 

How    was    it    that    Broughton    could    be 


26  TWO  SINNERS 

profoundly  critical  of  ideas — and  so  uncritical 
about  Stella  ? 

Maud  gnawed  mentally  at  this  question  over 
and  over  again.  Was  it  because  he  had  no 
measure  with  which  to  weigh  a  woman,  but  the 
measure  with  which  he  weighed  himself  ?  Did 
he  attribute  to  every  human  being  who  was  kind 
to  him  the  intelligence,  the  moral  rectitude,  of 
his  own  nature "? 

Maud  glanced  up  at  his  face  and  felt  certain 
that  it  was  so. 

"  A  great  deal  of  one's  work  is  dull,"  he  said, 
turning  to  Stella,  l<  because  it  doesn't  even 
involve  thinking.  So  that  six  or  seven  hours' 
work  daily  in  a  laboratory  doesn't  mean  six  or 
seven  hours  of  concentrated  thought.  Nothing 
of  the  sort — it  may  mean  mere  pottering  for 
hours,  days  ;  it  may  mean  waiting  for  results,  or 
perhaps  patient  attention  only,  observation  and 
calculations  of  a  mechanical  kind. 

"  A  great  discovery  may  turn  up  by  accident. 
A  lucky  '  by-product/  so  to  speak,  may  turn 
up  in  some  experiment  that  in  itself  has  no 
results.  A  man  may  work  for  life  and  do  little 
for  Science,  or  he  may  make  a  sudden  step 
forward,  though  he  has  no  constructive  imagina- 
tion. By  patient  attention  he  may  hit  on 
something  that  he  neither  expected  nor  was 
capable  of  anticipating." 

'  What  is  your  particular  work  ? '"  asked 
Maud. 

"  Chemistry,"  he  said. 

Ursula  sat  on  her  side  of  the  fire,  knitting 


TWO  SINNERS  27 

away  and  listening  intently,  glancing  up  at 
Broughton  through  a  pair  of  eyeglasses  stuck 
on  her  high-bridged  nose.  Long  experience 
of  never  being  admired,  of  never  expecting  to 
be  admired,  of  never  feeling  bitter  because  she 
wasn't  admired,  had  given  Ursula  a  certain  quiet 
dignity  of  self-f orgetfulness.  Of  the  three  women, 
she  was  the  only  one  who  listened  to  Broughton 
with  pure  unalloyed  interest  in  his  talk  for  its 
own  sake. 

Stella  was  full  of  the  "  pride  of  possession." 
She  was  saying  over  and  over  to  herself — that 
though  Maud  had  wrenched  Major  Kames  from 
her  grasp,  she  would  find  it  impossible  to  capture 
Broughton.  Stella  had  done  her  best,  in  fact, 
to  make  it  impossible — she  had  hinted  more 
than  once  to  Broughton  at  Aunt  Dorothy's  that 
her  sister  Maud  had  already  made  her  choice — 
a  choice  which  was  perhaps  a  little  disappointing. 
Stella  was  strong  now,  in  the  conviction  that  one 
oughtn't  to  marry  a  man  because  he  was  wealthy 
— was  Maud  going  to  marry  for  wealth  ?  Stella's 
thoughts,  indeed,  all  the  time  that  Broughton 
was  talking  were  on  this  subject ;  and  only  now 
and  again  did  she  recover  her  attention  sufficiently 
to  be  able  to  throw  out  vague  and  rather  ex- 
aggerated pronouncements  of  sympathy. 

She  was  arguing  with  herself  that  manly 
beauty  and  youth  were  "  really  and  truly " 
of  far  greater  importance  in  a  lover  than  the 
possession  of  an  ancient  country  house,  of 
motor-cars,  of  wealth  that  laughs  at  the  bills  of 
milliners  and  of  tailors.  So  indeed  she  argued. 


28  TWO  SINNEBS 

She  wanted  to  assure  herself  that  she  was  not 
merely  acting  rightly,  but  was  lucky — and 
Maud  was  likely  to  be  "  unlucky." 

Stella  felt  that  she  had  within  her  all  the 
musical  imagination  that  should  command  a 
brilliant  career  ;  but  that  society  being  what  it 
is,  full  of  ignorant  prejudice  and  full  of  corrup- 
tion, a  woman  had  a  better  chance — sad  to  say— 
if  she  had  wealth  at  her  back. 

If  you  have  money,  you  can  pay  for  the 
publication  of  your  book — and  give  the  public 
a  chance  ;  you  can  pay  people,  by  giving  them 
expensive  food  and  drinks  for  nothing,  to  look 
on  while  you  act,  or  while  you  sing ;  you  can 
"  bribe  "  a  reluctant  world  to  your  feet  just  as 
you  "  bribe  "  a  naughty  child  to  be  good,  for  a 
moment.  And  in  spite  of  all  this — this  gross 
fact  about  life — about  marriage  for  a  woman — 
Stella  felt  willing  to  "  give  up  "  Major  Kames  to 
Maud,  and  to  take  instead  this  penniless,  brilliant 
young  man.  It  would  mean  death  to  the  career 
she  desired,  but  it  would  mean  love  !  And  after 
all  love  is — something  !  So  indeed  she  argued  ! 

As  to  Maud,  she  listened,  but  all  the  time  her 
whole  mind  was  intent,  watching  Broughton 
with  downcast  eyes  that  nothing  escaped — not 
a  glance,  not  the  intonation  of  a  word.  Why  did 
Stella  allow  this  man  to  love  her  ? — for  it  was 
plain  to  Maud  that  her  sister  was  not  in  love 
with  him,  but  was  trying  to  think  she  was ! 
Probably  Stella  felt  that  she  too  must  marry 
somebody  !  So  she  meant  to  marry  Broughton, 
only — and  this  was  Maud's  chief  point — Stella 


TWO  SINNERS  29 

was  preventing  some  other  woman  from  loving 
him,  deeply,  passionately,  for  his  own  sake. 
Strangely  enough  this  thought  made  Maud's 
pulses  leap  with  indignation.  So  George 
Broughton  was  to  be  sacrificed  ! 

What  about  Major  Kames  being  sacrificed 
on  the  same  altar  ? 

Ah,  there  was  all  the  world  of  difference. 
The  two  men  could  not  be  compared.  To 
compare  Major  Kames  with  Broughton  was  like 
comparing  a  modern  Paris  restaurant,  orna- 
mented with  rococo  plaster  mouldings,  with  a 
Greek  temple  of  the  age  of  Pericles.  To  sacrifice 
Broughton  was  a  shocking  outrage,  to  sacrifice 
Major  Kames  was — well — a  pity  for  the  person 
who  was  compelled  to  do  it.  Maud  felt  profound 
— profound  pity  for  Major  Kames's  wife. 

The  clock  had  struck  half-past  ten  and  the 
long  hand  had  slowly  dragged  itself  to  the  figure 
eight,  when  the  front-door  bell  was  heard  to 
ring  sharply. 

Major  Kames  !  The  note  she  had  given  to 
the  maid  would  stop  him  from  coming  upstairs ! 
No,  it  had  not  stopped  him,  for  there  he  was, 
actually  coming  upstairs  !  How  horrible  !  No, 
it  was  not  Major  Kames — it  was  a  woman's 
steps — alone. 

Maud  had  clutched  hold  of  both  arms  of  her 
chair  ;  the  flush  had  vanished  from  her  face  and 
left  her  absolutely  pale.  She  felt  as  if  some 
one  standing  behind  her  had  gently  but  firmly 
pressed  her  head  down  to  receive  some  dreaded 
weight.  She  heard  the  door  open ;  the  odour 


30  TWO  SINNERS 

of  flowers  came  to  her  nostrils  ;  the  whole  room 
was  filled  by  the  scent  of  flowers. 

"  For  you,  Miss/'  said  the  maid  at  her  elbow, 
and  she  laid  a  massive  bouquet  of  lilies  of  the 
valley  and  carnations  upon  her  knees.  The  maid 
also  held  out  a  letter. 

"  For  you,  Miss,"  she  repeated. 

Maud  raised  her  head  and  took  the  letter. 
She  half  rose  from  her  chair,  and  the  flowers 
dropped  to  the  ground. 

In  a  moment  Broughton  was  gathering  them 
up. 

'  They  are  magnificent !  Do  you  find  the 
scent  a  bit  strong  ?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

Ursula's  knitting  had  dropped  to  her  lap 
and  she  was  sitting  upright  looking  at  Maud. 
Stella  was  leaning  forward  in  her  chair  staring. 

Neither  of  her  sisters  asked  :  ' '  Who  are  the 
flowers  from  ?  "  They  both  knew.  How  could 
he  have  got  flowers  at  this  hour  when  the  shops 
are  closed  ?  Her  letter  only  reached  him  at 
nine !  That  was  only  part  of  the  sinister  un- 
reality of  the  moment.  The  whole  incident  was 
like  a  nightmare  from  which  she  was  unable  to 
rouse  herself.  Broughton  was  passing  Maud, 
in  order  to  place  the  flowers  on  a  table,  and  as  he 
did  so  he  swiftly  and  adroitly  touched  her  hand 
with  his,  and  whispered  : 

"  Don't  tear  up  your  letter  !  " 

Maud  looked  down  at  her  hands.  She  was 
tearing  up  the  letter.  The  touch  of  his  hand 
on  hers  had  brought  her  to  her  senses.  It  was 
the  touch  of  a  man  who  sympathises,  nothing 


TWO  SINNERS  31 

more.  It  was  Stella  whom  this  man  loved. 
She,  Maud,  was  loved  by  Major  Kames. 

Maud  straightened  herself,  and  drew  a  long 
breath,  and  gravely  tore  open  the  envelope  and 
unfolded  the  sheet. 

It  contained  one  word — "  Thanks  " — in  Major 
Kames's  large  handwriting. 

Maud  looked  round  the  room.  Broughton 
was  putting  the  flowers  into  an  empty  bowl. 
Ursula  was  fumbling  with  her  knitting  and  leaning 
over  it.  Stella's  face  was  flushed  and  averted. 

"  They  are  from  Major  Kames,"  said  Maud, 
and  she  walked  to  where  Broughton  was  standing. 

"  I  suppose  I  must  have  them  put  into  water," 
she  added.  She  gathered  them  up  in  her  hands, 
and  went  to  the  door.  Broughton  opened  it 
for  her,  and  she  passed  through  without  looking 
at  him  again,  bearing  her  burden. 


CHAPTER  III 

WHEN  once  in  her  room  she  closed  the  door 
softly. 

Only  a  genius  could  have  said  "  Thanks," 
and  yet 

She  threw  the  flowers  upon  her  bed.  Then 
with  a  guilty,  restless  movement,  she  filled  a 
glass  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  taking  up  the 
flowers  again,  put  them  in.  Then  she  opened 
her  door  and  stepped  outside  and  listened,  the 
flowers  in  her  hand.  She  could  hear  voices 
louder  and  louder;  the  sitting-room  door  was 
opening ;  he  was  saying  "  Good  night."  She 
closed  her  door  again,  and  turned  the  key  and 
put  down  the  flowers.  She  stood  holding  her 
breath  and  waiting ;  she  had  closed  her  door 
lest  she  should  hear  him  saying  anything  to 
Stella  outside.  She  closed  her  ears  for  some 
seconds — it  seemed  a  long  time — and  when  she 
opened  them  she  heard  him  come  along  the 
passage,  pass  her  door,  and  go  downstairs  ;  then 
came  a  moment's  quiet,  and  the  hall  door  was 
pulled  open  and  shut  again.  He  had  gone. 
Why  had  she  met  George  Broughton  to-day  ? 
He  had  made  her  hate  Major  Kames. 

Maud  unlocked  her  door  again  and  looked  out. 
The  sitting-room  door  was  shut  and  no  sounds 
came  from  it.  She  swiftly  seized  the  vase  of 


TWO  SINNERS  33 

flowers  and  put  it  on  a  little  table  outside  the 
sitting-room  door.  Then  she  returned  to  her 
room  and  locked  the  door  for  the  second  time. 
She  could  not  go  and  say  "  Good  night "  to  her 
sisters.  She  hadn't  the  nerve.  It  would  be 
bad  enough  to  say  "  Good  morning  "  at  breakfast 
and  meet  their  eyes,  now  that  they  knew, 
though  it  would  have  been  infinitely  worse  to 
have  had  to  tell  them.  At  least,  that  was 
over. 

She  resolutely  began  to  undress.  In  a  few 
minutes  she  heard  Stella  come  out  of  the  sitting- 
room  singing  in  a  sprightly  way.  She  suddenly 
changed  her  singing  into  a  whistle  as  she  ran 
upstairs  to  her  room.  Maud  thought  she  heard 
Ursula  follow,  and  then  all  was  quiet. 

Maud  had  not  been  in  bed  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  when  there  came  a  slight  knock  on  her 
door ;  it  was  just  loud  enough  to  be  heard  if 
one  was  awake.  Maud  lay  motionless  and  made 
no  response.  She  tried  to  imagine  that  the 
sound  was  an  illusion.  The  knock  was  repeated 
a  second  time,  and  Maud,  not  able  to  call  it  an 
illusion  any  more,  began  to  harden  her  heart 
against  the  sound.  Why  did  Ursula  want  to 
disturb  her  now  that  the  pulses  in  her  head  were 
throbbing  like  some  remorseless  machinery  ? 
Wiry  did  Ursula  insist  on  coming  to  her  room  ? 
— why  should  she  intrude  just  now — just  now  ? 

Maud  listened  for  the  knock  to  come  a  third 
time,  but  it  did  not  come  ;  she  could  hear  only 
a  faint  rustle  as  of  some  one  going  away,  and 
then  there  came  absolute  silence. 

D 


34  TWO  SINNERS 

For  a  few  moments  Maud  went  on  justifying 
herself  vehemently  for  not  letting  her  sister  in. 
Why  should  she  have  to  endure  any  reproaches, 
by  word  or  look,  about  this  crisis  in  her  life  ? 
If  her  engagement  was  a  wrong  one,  it  was  she 
who  would  suffer,  and  no  one  else.  Life  had 
conspired  against  her ;  she  was  the  victim  of 
tragedy ;  whereas  all  that  was  worth  having, 
all  that  made  for  real  happiness,  had  been  thrown 
at  Stella's  feet,  for  her  to  play  with.  And  yet 
Ursula  actually  wanted  to  come  to  talk  about  it 
all !  It  was  rather  hard  !  Then,  while  she  still 
justified  herself  and  pitied  herself,  there  came 
sweeping  over  her  the  remembrance  of  all  that 
Ursula  had  been  to  her,  all  that  she  had  done  for 
her,  the  years  of  unselfish  ministration  ;  and  yet 
this  unique  sister  and  friend  had  been  shut  out 
from  all  knowledge  of  an  event  that  was  to  come 
and  separate  them  for  ever.  This  friend  had 
been  repulsed  when  she — humbly  enough — 
knocked  at  the  door. 

Bitter  tears  came  to  Maud's  eyes  and  she 
wept  on  her  pillow.  Her  father  had  been 
nothing  to  her — emotionally.  He  had  been 
a  presence,  a  voice  speaking  authoritatively,  as 
she  thought,  discussing  affairs,  books,  religion, 
philosophy,  science,  with  the  airy  scepticism 
of  a  dilettante,  colouring  her  youthful  views  of 
the  world  of  thought.  It  was  Ursula  who  had 
shared  all  her  childish  joys  and  sorrows,  and  who 
had  watched  over  her  with  a  maternal  love. 
And  dear  Ursula,  poor  Ursula,  was  she  lying 
awake,  grieved  to  the  heart  ? 


TWO  SINNERS  35 

Maud  pushed  out  her  arm  in  the  darkness 
and  put  on  the  light.  She  threw  on  her  dressing- 
gown  and  put  on  her  slippers.  The  air  was 
very  cold.  Cautiously  she  unlocked  her  door 
and  opened  it.  It  was  dark  in  the  passage  and 
stairs,  and  the  faint  perfume  of  those  flowers  met 
her  on  the  warm  air  of  the  closed  house. 

She  left  her  door  open  and  by  its  light  crept 
upstairs.  One  of  the  stairs  creaked  as  she  went 
up.  At  the  top  it  was  almost  perfectly  dark ; 
she  felt  her  way  to  Ursula's  door.  Ursula  had  the 
front  room.  It  had  not  been  her  wish,  but 
propriety  had  compelled  the  two  younger  sisters 
to  thrust  it  upon  her.  Under  Ursula's  door  was 
a  faint  streak  of  light.  Maud  paused.  She  did 
not  knock,  because  Ursula  had  knocked  on  her 
door  in  vain ;  she  turned  round  the  handle 
noiselessly  and  opened  the  door  and  closed  it 
behind  her.  Ursula  was  sitting  up  in  bed.  She 
was  reading. 

Maud  could  see  that  she  had  been  crying, 
the  eyes  behind  the  eyeglasses  were  reddened, 
and  the  mouth  was  relaxed.  She  exclaimed  in 
a  whisper  : 

"Maud!    Dear  Maud!" 

Maud  came  towards  the  bed. 

"  I  ought  to  have  told  you,"  she  said — "  oh, 
Ursula,  I  ought  to  have  told  you.  Forgive  me, 
forgive  me,  dear.  God  bless  you — I  can't  wait, 
but  I  must  say  Good  night,  darling  Ursula." 

Maud  bent  down  swiftly  and  kissed  her 
sister's  brow  and  then  fled — fled,  closing  the 
door  behind  her  rapidly  and  securely,  and 


36  TWO  SINNERS 


hurrying  down  the  stairs,  by  the  aid  of  the  thin 
railing,  back  to  her  own  bedroom.  And  with 
her  went  the  memory  of  Ursula's  face  —  pale, 
tear-stained,  full  of  love  in  which  there  was  no 
room  for  thought  of  self,  no  room  for  forgiveness, 
for  no  anger  had  tarnished  that  heart  of  gold. 
Ursula's  face  meant  profound  anxiety  for  her 
darling's  happiness  and  —  perhaps  —  a  sense  of 
great  loneliness. 


CHAPTEE  IV 

THERE  are  no  longer  any  hidden  romantic  spots 
in  our  Island.  There  is  not  a  mountain  glen 
among  the  northern  hills  that  has  not  been 
skimmed  through  a  thousand  times ;  there  is 
not  a  quaint  dovecot  of  a  church  hidden  in  a 
Sussex  dean  that  has  not  been  glanced  at  every 
day  of  the  week  by  the  motorist  and  his  women- 
folk, as  they  go  in  search  of  that  more  congenial 
object  of  art— the  picturesque  village  inn. 

Is  all  this  laying  bare  of  old  secrets  the  reason, 
or  at  least  one  of  the  reasons,  why  our  love  of 
poetry  is  dying  ?  Nothing  is  mysterious,  nothing 
is  left  to  the  imagination.  Everybody  has  seen 
everything,  or  at  least  everybody  has  hurried 
past  everything ;  and  even  the  poor  have  seen 
the  world — in  their  picture  palaces. 

If  rapid  physical  movement  has  helped  to 
kill  the  old  romance,  it  has  also  created  a  sort 
of  romance  of  its  own — or  rather  an  illusion  of 
its  own. 

The  mentally,  the  physically  inert  can  now 
delude  themselves  into  the  notion  that,  by 
arriving  here  and  there  swiftly,  they  are  making 
time  of  real  value ;  they  seem  to  be  actually 
doing  something.  In  the  case  of  Major  Kames, 
however,  who  might  have  shown  more  mental 
energy  if  he  had  had  less  money,  there  was  no 


38  TWO  SINNERS 

case  of  self-deception  when  he  moved  about 
from,  place  to  place. 

Behind  the  desire  that  he  used  to  have  for 
more  or  less  superfluous  movement  was  the 
conviction  that  life  was  probably  a  vicious  circle, 
and  that  the  slower  you  went  the  more  you 
pandered  to  the  false  assumption  that  the 
human  race  was  on  some  important  high  road 
and  ought  to  go  carefully.  Possessing  a  certain 
power  of  artistic  creation,  a  natural  love  of  all 
the  arts,  of  music,  and  poetry,  Major  Kames, 
in  this  rush  of  life,  had  left  them  uncultivated. 
If  he  played  the  piano  and  sang,  it  was  because 
it  was  extremely  easy  to  do  so,  and  he  found  it 
gave  enhanced  value  to  the  social  side  of  life. 

He  had  gone  down  to  Brighton  in  December 
for  a  week  because  the  ground  was  too  hard  for 
hunting,  and  he  had  stayed  there  two  months 
on  and  off,  much  to  his  own  amazement.  But  he 
had  at  last  discovered  his  own  motive.  He  meant 
to  marry  Maud  Monckton — and  he  seemed  to  be 
on  the  eve  of  accomplishing  his  wish. 

An  experience  of  something  like  twenty 
years  had  impressed  him  with  the  fact  that  in  the 
marriage  market  a  very  great  deal  of  money  will 
buy  almost  anything — titles — birth — beauty — 
talent — it  will  even  buy  more  money ;  but  one 
thing  it  cannot  secure — it  cannot  secure  fastidious 
culture  and  moral  refinement,  not  merely  because 
this  is  not  to  be  found  in  markets  of  any  kind, 
but  because,  even  if  found  elsewhere,  it  is  not 
amenable  to  economic  laws  ;  it  has  laws  of  its 
own,  reasons  that  the  reason  knows  not  of.  All 


TWO  SINNERS  39 

the  romance  that  can  lurk  in  the  heart  of  a  man 
of  thirty-nine,  who,  like  Kames,  has  knocked 
about  the  world,  was  concentrated  just  now 
on  one  object.  He  wanted  to  marry,  to  settle 
down  permanently,  and  to  have  as  wife  a  woman 
of  a  different  type  from  those  he  had  met  before, 
the  type  of  which  wre  have  just  spoken.  It  is 
not  to  be  found  nowadays  in  Society,  which 
spells  itself  with  a  capital  S,  nor  in  the  wealthy 
commercial  circles  with  which  they  intermarry. 
This  type  of  woman  can  be  met  with  now  and 
again  in  some  quiet,  unfashionable  country- 
house,  or  some  secluded  suburban  villa,  where 
the  master  of  the  house  is  a  scholar  of  leisure, 
neither  wealthy  nor  poor,  an  aristocrat  of  the 
world  of  letters,  educating  those  around  him  to 
appreciate  what  is  rare  and  to  reject  what  is 
vulgar. 

Another  point  of  importance  with  Kames 
was  that  his  wife  should  not  hunt ;  he  was 
convinced  that  women  were  spoiling  the  hunting- 
field — they  were  either  slackers  or  they  pressed. 

But  Major  Kames's  choice  of  a  wife  was  to 
depend  on  more  than  character  and  education. 
He  had  painted  a  portrait  of  her  in  his  imagina- 
tion. She  must  be  as  tall  as  possible,  and  rather 
thin.  She  must  look  over  the  heads  of  other 
women  with  an  expression  of  unconscious  superi- 
ority. She  must  be  neither  black  nor  yellow 
(his  reasons  were  obvious),  but  she  must  have 
ropes  of  light  brown  hair  and  a  fair,  pale,  healthy 
complexion,  and  she  must  not  smile  too  often. 
In  short,  her  personality,  physical  and  mental, 


40  TWO  SINNERS 

must  be  such  as  cannot  be  imitated  by  the  actress 
or  the  foreigner. 

Married  life,  he  considered,  had  extraordinary 
natural  drawbacks  to  it,  but  with  a  woman  of 
whose  presence  he  would  constantly  be  proud, 
and  whom  he  could  trust,  it  might  be  endurable  ; 
it  would  at  least  be  mysteriously  charming  and 
amazingly  absurd — and  he  was  no  longer 
young. 

Maud  was  as  nearly  a  counterpart  of  that 
portrait  as  Kames  was  ever  likely  to  meet.  He 
pursued  her  with  persistency  and  even  with  a 
certain  amount  of  success.  He  found  the  chase 
interesting,  for  she  was  an  unknown  quantity  to 
him — her  mind  was  not  constructed  like  his. 

When  Maud  came  down  to  breakfast  on  the 
morning  following  her  engagement  to  Major 
Kames,  her  eyes  caught  in  an  instant  three 
things — Ursula  at  the  breakfast-table,  a  letter 
from  Major  Kames  lying  conspicuously  on  the 
table,  Major  Kames's  flowers  conspicuously  in  the 
middle  of  the  table. 

She  had  awakened  that  morning  with  a  feeling 
of  nervous  fatigue,  a  sense  of  heaviness,  which 
made  it  easier  than  she  had  expected  to  behave 
with  a  sort  of  weary  diplomacy  before  her  sisters 
when  she  met  them  that  morning. 

Now  that  her  engagement  to  Major  Kames 
was  a  fact,  and  known  to  be  a  fact,  she  must  go 
through  with  it  in  a  dignified  manner.  It  was 
not  necessary  to  pretend  that  she  was  in  love 
with  him — that  would  be  an  absurd  lie  ;  and  she 
must  not  allow  any  one — not  even  Ursula — to 


TWO  SINNERS  41 

say,  even  to  hint,  that  "  being  in  love "  is 
necessary  to  the  success  of  an  engagement. 

If  she  broke  off  the  engagement  herself,  she 
would  do  it  properly — with  decorum — on  the 
plea,  not  that  it  was  a  mistake  from  the 
beginning,  but  that  it  had  turned  out  to  be  a 
mistake. 

Maud  bent  down  as  she  passed  her  sister's 
chair  and  kissed  her,  saying  tenderly  "•  Darling 
Ursula,"  but  she  did  not  look  to  see  if  the  emotion 
of  last  night  was  still  reddening  her  sister's 
eyelids.  She  looked  resolutely  at  her  plate, 
and  took  up  Major  Kames's  letter  boldly  and 
tore  it  open,  as  if  she  was  accustomed  to  receive 
letters  from  him. 

If  only  Stella  had  been  down  in  time  for 
breakfast,  the  situation  would  have  been  less 
strained,  but  Stella  never  was  in  time  for  any- 
thing. 

Maud  read  through  her  letter  twice,  while 
Ursula  wrestled  with  the  coffee-pot  and  the 
hot  milk. 

"  Major  Kames,"  said  Maud  in  a  rather  hard 
voice,  "  wants  to  come  here  this  morning  to 
see  you.  He  wants  to  take  me  out  somewhere 
to  lunch.  Is  that  all  right,  Ursula  ?  " 

Maud  had  tightened  up  all  her  nerves,  and 
turned  her  face  to  her  sister  and  smiled.  When 
she  saw  that  Ursula  was  holding  out  to  her  a 
cup  of  coffee  with  a  hand  that  had  a  tremor  in 
it,  then,  for  a  moment,  she  wanted  to  burst  out 
crying  ;  but  she  steeled  herself  resolutely  and 
frowned,  dropping  her  eyes  and  raising  her 


42  TWO  SINNERS 

eyebrows  in  a  manner  common  to  her  when  she 
was  determined  upon  some  action. 

'  You  will  want  to  go  out  with  him,"  said 
Ursula.  The  remark  was  neither  a  question  nor 
a  positive  statement — it  lay  between  the  two  ;  it 
came  from  a  heart  that  was  full  of  distress,  full  of 
surprise,  and  yet  carefully  trying  to  repress  both. 

"  He  will  be  here  about  eleven  o'clock,"  said 
Maud  evasively.  Then  she  looked  out  of  the 
window  at  the  sea.  It  was  a  brilliant  morning- — 
almost  as  brilliant  as  the  previous  day  had  been. 
The  sea  was  full  of  moving  blue  and  white, 
which  seemed  to  glitter  backwards  and  forwards 
just  as  if  some  rich  silk  shot  with  blue  and  white 
was  shifted  to  and  fro  to  catch  the  light,  first 
one  way,  then  the  other. 

"  I  want  to  go  out  directly,"  said  Maud. 
"  I  feel  as  if  I  needed  some  exercise.  I  have  a 
slight  headache,  and  motoring  is  no  good  for 
that.  Can  I  do  anything  for  you,  Ursula  ?  " 
and  then,  answering  Ursula's  anxious  eyes,  she 
added,  "  It's  nothing,  only  I  must  get  out  of 
doors.  Can't  I  do  your  shopping  for  you  ?  ': 

Maud  felt  that  she  was  successfully  enveloping 
herself  with  an  impenetrable  cover,  behind  which 
she  could  endure  her  own  troubles  in  secret,  and 
all  this  without  behaving  to  Ursula  in  any  im- 
proper manner  or  ceasing  to  be  affectionate  to 
her.  If  she  could  go  out  alone,  till  Major  Kames 
came,  and  got  over  his  first  meeting  with  Ursula 
and  Stella  as  their  future  brother-in-law,  then — 
well,  then — then  would  come  an  interminable 
number  of  tete-d-tetes  with  Major  Kames.  Suppose 


TWO  SINNERS  43 

she  found  them  unpleasant — perhaps  humili- 
ating !  She  ate  her  breakfast  without  being 
aware  of  what  she  was  eating,  and  as  soon  as  she 
excusably  could,  she  got  up. 

Her  sister's  silence  was  both  painful  and  yet 
a  relief.  It  was  impossible  to  talk  of  other  things. , 
just  now,  and  yet  any  talk  about  the  engagement 
was  equally  impossible.  Just  as  Maud  rose  from 
her  chair,  Stella  came  into  the  room.  Last 
night  she  had  looked  like  a  goddess  ;  this  morn- 
ing, for  the  privacy  of  her  own  family,  she  was 
a  very  good-looking,  untidy  girl ;  her  blouse 
was  crookedly  pinned  at  the  back,  she  had 
forgotten  to  put  on  her  waistbelt ;  on  the  other 
hand,  she  had  two  pocket-handkerchiefs  with  her 
and  a  book  that  she  had  no  intention  of  reading. 

'  You  rushed  off  to  bed  last  night  so  that  we 
couldn't  congratulate  you,  old  girl,"  she  called 
out  to  Maud  as  she  came  in.  "  All  the  time  I 
was  with  Aunt  Dorothy  I  expected  the  news — 
but  it  didn't  come."  Stella  spoke  with  a  smile 
that  made  her  dimples  deepen. 

"  I  was  only  engaged  yesterday,"  said  Maud, 
walking  to  the  door  as  quickly  as  she  could  with 
dignity.  "  I  could  not  tell  you  of  it  before 
because  it  had  not  occurred.  Major  Kames  is 
coming  here  at  eleven  to  see  Ursula  and  you — 
and — me  !  I  don't  know  anything  about  engage- 
ments, but  I  suppose  they  have  to  be  announced." 

The  swift  colour  deepened  in  Stella's  face,  but 
she  still  smiled. 

"  I'm  most  awfully  sorry  I  shan't  see  him 
this  morning,"  she  said,  sitting  down  at  the 


44  TWO  SINNERS 

table,  "  but  I've  promised  to  golf  this  morning 
at  ten  o'clock.  I  suppose  I'm  late ;  I  must 
buck  up.  Please  give  him  all  the  proper  sort  of 
messages  and  all  that — and 

'''  I  will,"  said  Maud,  and  she  closed  the  door, 
shutting  out  Stella's  flushed  cheeks  and  Ursula's 
back,  only  too  expressive — slightly  bowed  — 
patient — unhappy. 

Maud  did  know  very  little  about  engage- 
ments, but  she  was  sure  that  usually  they  were 
occasions  of  great  rejoicing  and  much  family 
discussion.  How  different  was  hers  !  She  might 
almost  have  committed  a  crime  and  announced 
it !  She  walked  dismally  up  to  her  room. 
Wasn't  it  rather  hard  that  she  should  begin  her 
new  life  as  a  culprit  ?  What  had  she  done  to 
deserve  such  treatment  ? 

She  went  out  on  to  the  Parade,  towards 
Rottingdean,  hurrying  and  trying  not  to  think  ; 
breathing  the  keen  cold  air  into  her  lungs,  and 
looking  with  wide-open  eyes  at  the  blue  sky  and 
the  sea  as  if  the  purity  and  brilliance  of  the 
morning  could  restore  her  peace  of  mind. 

At  eleven  o'clock  punctually,  Ursula  was  in 
their  sitting-room  waiting.  Maud  had  only  just 
returned  from  her  walk,  and  had  run  upstairs 
to  her  room.  There  was  already  the  sound  of  a 
motor  snorting  at  the  door.  Major  Kames  had 
come.  Ursula  was  walking  about  nervously. 

;f  That's  right,  Maud,"  she  said,  as  her  sister 

walked  in.  "  I  was  afraid  you "  There  she 

stopped,  for  the  girl's  face  was  terribly  pale. 

Ursula  seized  her  sister's  hands.    "  Maud  !  " 


TWO  SINNERS  45 

The  question  "  Do  you  love  him  1  "  she  dared 
not  add — Maud's  eyes  forbade  it. 

"  It's  all  right,  dear,  all  right !  "  said  Maud 
rather  proudly,  but  not  without  some  tenderness 
in  her  voice,  as  she  took  her  hands  away  from 
Ursula's  grasp,  and  after  kissing  her  affection- 
ately, walked  away  with  a  high  independent  air. 
Kames's  step  was  on  the  stairs — a  very  different 
step  from  the  youthful  spring  of  George 
Broughton. 

Kames  had  not  waited  for  the  maid  to 
announce  him.  He  knocked  at  the  door,  opened 
it,  and  walked  in. 

He  was  a  little  flushed  over  and  above  his 
tanned  complexion.  He  bowed  to  Ursula  and 
then  walked  straight  up  to  Maud,  took  her 
hand,  and,  bending  down,  kissed  it.  When  he 
raised  his  head  he  stared  at  her  and  the  flush 
died  away.  So  his  engagement  was  of  importance 
to  him,  an  emotional  crisis  in  his  life  !  He  was 
putting  his  life  into  the  hands  of  this  tall  pale 
girl,  who  looked  at  him  with  veiled  criticism 
and  yet  did  not  realise  how  much  it  all  meant — 
to  him.  She  was  thinking  of  herself  only. 

"  Miss  Monckton,  Ursula,  please  congratulate 
us,"  he  said,  turning  to  Ursula,  and  he  grasped 
her  hands,  holding  them  tightly  in  his  own  till 
she  responded. 

'  You  are  much  to  be  congratulated,"  said 
Ursula,  stammering  a  little. 

He  released  her  hands,  and  the  ceremony  was 
over.  He  did  not  seem  to  have  noticed  Stella's 
absence — at  least  he  made  no  comment. 


46  '  TWO  SINNERS 

The  ceremony  was  over,  and  Kames  had 
behaved  in  a  very  proper  manner  ;  he  had  not 
been  objectionably  hearty,  nor  hilarious,  and  the 
conversation  that  followed,  though  jerky  and 
rather  lame  on  their  side,  was  made  up  for  by 
volubility  on  his. 

"  There  are  any  amount  of  things  to  talk 
over,"  he  was  soon  saying.  "And  I  want  to 
take  you  all  over  to  see  Orpenden  House.  I  am 
impatient  for  you  to  see — your  future  home- 
Ursula,  you  must  see  it — but  this  morning  I 
want  to  take  Maud  oS  with  me.  I  want  to  flaunt 
her  before  the  world  as  belonging  to  me." 

Maud  and  Ursula  looked,  not  at  each  other,  but 
at  the  top  button  of  Major  Kames's  waistcoat. 

"  Eh  ?  "  he  insisted. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Ursula  ;  "  I'm  sure  Maud 
will  go  ;  it's  not  windy." 

"  It's  not  at  all  windy,"  said  Maud.  "  Have 
you  got  the  putty-coloured  motor  or  the  green 
and  purple  ?  ':  She  was  trying  to  speak  chafE- 
ingly,  and  she  waited  for  his  answer  with  a 
smile  upon  her  lips. 

"  Green  and  purple,"  he  replied.      '  Why  ?  >: 

"  On  this  lovely  morning,"  said  Maud,  "  a 
closed  motor  is  simply  impossible.  You  can 
send  the  man  back  for  the  other,  can't  you  ?  " 

Kames's  face  showed  some  disappointment. 
"  I  can,  of  course,  if  you  wish  it." 

"  Please,"  said  Maud.  "  I  can  put  on  warm 
things,  and  you  can  send  for  another  coat." 

So  determined  was  she  that  she  had  moved 
to  the  bell  and  had  put  out  her  hand  to  ring  it. 


TWO  SINNERS  47 

"  Don't  ring,"  said  Kames  ;  "  I'll  go  and  tell 
the  man  myself  if  you  really  make  a  point  of 
going  in  the  other  one."  He  looked  at  her ; 
she  bent  her  head  emphatically. 

"  Really,"  she  said. 

He  was  not  pleased,  but  he  submitted  and 
went  downstairs. 

Rather  than  meet  Ursula's  eyes,  Maud  walked 
to  the  window  and  looked  out,  making  believe 
to  be  very  busy  watching  Major  Kames  speak  to 
the  chauffeur  and  seeing  the  car  slide  swiftly  off. 

"  I've  begun  early — eh,  Ursula,"  said  Kames, 
returning  rather  breathless.  "  Please  make  a 
note  of  this  :  Maud's  had  her  own  way  from  the 
very  start.  Don't  you  think  I  promise  to  make 
a  good  husband — eh  ?  " 

Maud  turned  away  from  the  window. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  get  ready  ?  Perhaps 
I  had  better.  What  a  glorious  day  it  is  !  " 

"  But  it  gets  icily  cold  in  the  afternoon. 
Maud,  you  haven't  settled  with  Major  Kames 
when  you  are  to  come  back.  Don't  let  it  be 
very  late  in  the  afternoon,  in  an  open  car." 

"  Major  Kames !  "  Kames  stood  erect  at 
the  door  with  a  look  of  mock  wrath  on  his  face. 
"  Major  Kames  !  Maud,  don't  go  till  this  insult 
is  apologised  for." 

"  Lionel,"  said  Ursula,  laughing  a  little. 
"It's  difficult  to  make  a  sudden  change  in  the 
way  of  addressing  people  !  Lionel !  " 

"  I  don't  find  it  difficult,"  said  Kames, 
opening  the  door.  "  Maud  comes  easily- — Maud, 
Maud,  Maud !  There's  positively  nothing  to 


48  TWO  SINNERS 

learn  in  it,  and  Ursula  follows  as  a  matter  of 
course — both  fine  names — as  names  go." 

Maud  fled  upstairs  to  her  room,  feeling  as 
she  mounted  each  step  that  she  was  moving 
swiftly  in  a  dream,  a  strange  dream,  out  of  which 
Major  Kames  might  suddenly  step,  and  leave 
her  to  go  on  dreaming  of  something  else.  Instead 
of  dressing  at  once,  she  moved  about  her  room 
in  a  blind  way,  holding  her  hands  before  her 
eyes.  Must  she  dress  ?  Had  she  to  pretend 
that  this  dream  was  real,  and  to  follow  it  out 
in  the  details  that  presented  themselves  to  her  ? 

She  pulled  a  bonnet  out  of  a  drawer  and  put 
it  on.  It  was  of  dark  brown  silk,  with  a  frill ; 
a  pink  rose  was  on  one  side.  It  suited  her 
admirably  ;  the  pink  rose  was  illuminating. 

Maud  looked  at  her  own  image  in  the  glass, 
and  drew  a  long  and  profound  sigh. 

She  tied  a  brown  veil  over  her  face,  and  this 
only  added  to  the  illusive  charm  of  her  appear- 
ance. 

"  How  hopeless  !  "  she  found  herself  saying 
aloud. 

She  went  to  a  cupboard  and  pulled  out  a 
thick  coat  with  a  fur  collar,  a  coat  that  Ursula 
had  given  her  at  Christmas,  and  for  which  she 
had  saved  previously. 

Then  Maud  looked  for  a  pair  of  thick  gloves. 

She  found  them  in  a  moment,  in  a  certain 
corner  of  another  drawer.  Her  room  was  a 
pattern  of  neatness — of  more  than  mere  neat- 
ness ;  for  in  spite  of  the  obvious  poverty  of  the 
owner,  there  was  a  profusion  of  books — books 


TWO  SINNEKS  49 

that  must  have  cost  money — carefully  selected 
and  carefully  kept. 

Whatever  Maud  did,  she  did  well.  She  and 
Ursula  had  more  than  the  usual  woman's  share 
of  mental  vitality,  and  it  overflowed  into  the 
routine  of  every  day,  making  them  do  little 
things  in  a  grand  manner. 

She  left  her  room  very  slowly,  and  went 
downstairs  one  step  at  a  time,  as  if  she  was 
walking  to  meet  some  fate  that  she  dreaded. 

She  glanced  at  the  sitting-room  door.  She 
could  hear  Ursula's  voice  and  then  Kames's — 
deep  in  conversation.  She  opened  the  door  and 
saw  an  amazing  sight. 

Ursula  was  on  the  couch  with  Major  Kames 
beside  her.  Ursula's  thin  angular  figure  was 
bolt  upright — all  bony  structure,  so  to  speak, 
and  considering  its  stiffness  and  power  of 
resistance,  wonderfully  amenable  to  the  per- 
suasive arm  that  Kames  had  put  round  her, 
while  he  emphasised  his  words  with  his  other 
hand  and  extended  emphatic  forefinger,  wagging 
it  under  her  very  nose.  Ursula's  face  was  a 
little  flushed,  but  it  was  smiling. 

No  man  but  Kames  would  have  dared,  would 
have  cared,  to  treat  Ursula  in  this  fashion.  She 
had  expected  to  be  treated  with  the  respectful 
indifference,  or  with  that  secret  enmity  veneered 
by  exasperating  politeness  that  is  meted  out 
to  the  unavoidable  chaperon ;  but  Kames  was 
argmng  with  her  as  if  she  was — well,  a  human 
being  like  himself — and  for  whom  he  cared. 

:<  Ursula  and  I  are  agreeing  on  every  point," 

E 


50  TWO  SINNERS 

called  out  Kames  in  a  hearty  voice.  In  some 
things,  Kames  was  an  expert !  Ursula  was 
already  on  his  side ;  Maud  could  see  that  by 
the  tone  in  which  she  was  now  pronouncing  his 
name — "  Lionel " — and  the  way  she  looked  at 
him  ;  there  was  already  between  them  a  cordial 
understanding,  a  mutual  regard. 


CHAPTER  V 

EVERYTHING  that  met  Maud's  eye  that  morning 
seemed  vaguely  disappointing,  strangely  faulty. 
The  joy  that  was  in  the  frosty  air  and  fine 
vaporous  sunshine,  the  gaiety  of  sparkling  icy 
particles  on  hedgerows,  on  the  roadside,  were  gone. 
The  earth  had  clothed  herself  with  a  mantle  of 
pure  matter-of-fact.  Every  lane,  every  thatched 
cottage,  suggested  money  or  the  want  of  it — 
contemptible  money,  money  which  the  soul 
despises,  and  the  mind  searches  for  passionately. 

Maud  was,  now,  wealthy — at  least  wealth 
was  hers  if  she  put  out  her  hands  to  grasp  it — 
yes,  if  she  had  the  courage  to  grasp  it. 

To  Kames's  remarks  she  replied  with  the 
proper  amount  of  yes  and  no  and  smiles  and 
laughter  that  she  considered  necessary  to  the 
occasion. 

A  great  artist  in  words,  a  scientist,  whom 
some  believe  to  be  a  great  philosopher,  has 
called  laughter  an  expression  of  human  vanity. 
In  his  consideration  of  laughter  he  omits  one 
kind — one  peculiar  to  civilisation — a  hard  shrill 
noise,  which  is  more  or  less  competitive,  like  the 
crowing  of  cocks,  and  which  is  called,  neverthe- 
less, laughter  by  those  who  make  it.  It  is 
meant  to  signify  successful  gaiety,  and  the  sound 


52  TWO  SINNERS 

strikes  the  passer-by  with  a  dismal  world- 
weariness. 

He  also  omits  the  laughter  of  tragedy — when 
some  overpowering  fear,  fear  of  the  death  of  a 
beloved  one,  is  suddenly  relieved  by  the  presence 
of  the  beloved,  and  laughter,  like  a  bird  escaped, 
trembles  and  floats  in  an  access  of  joy. 

But  Maud's  laughter  was  not  laughter  at  all, 
it  was  consciously  due  to  an  effort  of  will,  in 
order  to  avoid  the  more  difficult  effort — talk 
with  some  one  wiiom  one  does  not  understand 
and  who  is  sitting  too  near.  How  long  the  drive 
seemed !  They  went  some  forty  miles  only, 
just  .straight  inland  and  then  along  the  northern 
edge  of  the  Downs  and  finally  to  the  sea  again, 
reaching  Eastbourne  about  one  o'clock.  The 
sea  was  now  no  longer  perfectly  smooth,  the 
brilliancy  of  blue  and  white  had  faded.  There 
was  less  blue  and  more  white  ;  a  grey  hue  was 
stealing  into  it.  The  air  was  less  frosty  ;  there 
was  the  coming  of  wind  and  of  thaw  already  in 
the  air. 

The  car  drew  up  at  a  large  white  hotel  facing 
the  sea. 

"  We  can  get  our  lunch  here,"  said  Kames. 
He  stamped  his  feet  on  the  pavement  and  then 
helped  Maud  to  alight. 

"  Not  a  bad  place  this  for  lunch,"  he  re- 
marked, as  he  led  the  way  through  a  pretentious 
portal.  Maud  saw  no  particular  quality  in  the 
hotel :  it  was  the  sort  of  place  that  rich  business 
people  would  motor  down  to  from  London,  in 
order  to  feed.  The  dining-room  was  large,  full 


TWO  SINNEES  53 

of  small  tables,  though  very  few  had  occupants. 
Kames  ordered  a  lunch  d  la  carte,  which  irritated 
Maud. 

"I  have  no  particular  preference  for  anything," 
she  said  hurriedly ;  "  please  don't  order  any 
weird  sort  of  things  for  me,  because  I  never 
take  anything  but  coffee  and  bread  and  butter 
in  the  middle  of  the  day." 

This  was  not  strictly  true  ;  but  Maud's  mood 
exaggerated  the  brilliant  austerity  of  her  own 
taste  in  order  to  throw  his  into  deeper  shadow. 

There  was  nothing  in  his  way  of  life  that  she 
admired,  and  yet  she  intended  sharing  it  with 
him,  retaining,  however,  the  right  to  grumble  at 
it.  This  seemed  to  be  the  bald  fact. 

"  Rubbish  !  "  said  Kames,  giving  his  orders. 

She  took  off  her  veil  and  gloves  and  seated 
herself  at  the  table,  and  sat  looking  as  if  nothing 
was  really  good  enough  for  her.  This  expression 
was  exactly  what  Kames  admired.  He  had 
seated  himself  opposite  her,  and  now  he  threw 
himself  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed. 

"  By  Jove !  "  he  said,  staring  at  her,  "  you 
look  as  if  you  meant  business." 

Maud  raised  her  eyebrows. 
'  What  do  you  mean  ?    Do  you  mean  that  I 
look  hungry  or  greedy  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  you  look — splendid,"  said 
Kames  ;  "  you  put  a  hoity-toity  little  bonnet  on 
like  that,  and  then  you  go  and  tell  me  that  you 
don't  know  what  I  mean.  Well,  I  mean  any- 
thing you  like,  whatever  you  approve  of,  or  will 
make  you  smile." 


54  TWO  SINNERS 

*  Thanks,"  said  Maud,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  Without  any  flattery,  Maud,"  said  Kames, 
leaning  forwards  and  putting  his  arms  on  the 
table';  "  sitting  like  that,  so  that  one  can't 
see  your  skirts,  you  look  the  very  picture  of  a 
pretty,  smart,  clever  Early  Victorian,  and  nothing 
can  beat  that,  nothing,  by — all  the  gods  of 
Egypt !  " 

'  Why  of  Egypt  ?  "  questioned  Maud. 
'  Why ! "    said    Kames,    trying    to    think. 
"  Well,  because,  bless  'em,  there's  such  a  lot  of 
'em,  and  they're  such  rum-looking  chaps." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Maud. 

"  Eh  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Oh,  I  see  ;  I've 
put  my  foot  into  it— ought  to  have  sworn  by  a 
glass  chandelier  or  a  steel  fender  and  fire-irons. 
But  it's  the  way  you  move  that  I  admire  most— 
I've  been  longing  to  tell  you  that  for  two  months,"' 
he  continued,  speaking  now  in  a  loud  whisper. 
"  You're  different  from  any  girl  I've  ever  seen, 
this  style  exclusive.  You're  an  enigma,  a 
riddle." 

"  Of  the  Sphinx,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Maud, 
trying  to  look  cheerfully  across  at  him. 

"  No  !  "  burst  out  Kames.  He  uttered  the 
exclamation  in  a  tone  of  suppressed  thunder, 
that  made  the  few  scattered  people  in  the  room 
turn  and  glance  at  the  pair.  "  That  I  suspected 
long  ago." 

"  And  what  is  it  ?  "  demanded  Maud,  with  a 
temporary  flash  of  real  interest. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  said.  "  Well,  I've  come 
at  it  by  years  of  meditation,  up  and  down  Europe 


TWO  SINNERS  55 

and  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic.  It's  not  an 
original  idea,  but  it's  true,  I'm  afraid." 

"  And  what  is  it  ?  " 

Kames  repeated  the  words  in  a  slow,  soft 
voice : 

"  And  the  end  is — silence." 

Maud's  eyes  fell.  She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
'  That's  why  we  kick  up  such  a  devil  of  a 
noise  while  we  can,"  said  Kames,  taking  up  the 
wine  list  and  looking  down  a  page ;  :e  you'll 
take  some  champagne — they  keep  quite  decent 
stuff  here  1  " 

"  No,  thanks,"  said  Maud. 

What  would  be  the  use  of  discussing  with  him 
a  serious  subject  like  "  The  End  "  ?  Although 
she  had  talked  about  "  The  End  "  in  much  the 
same  manner  herself,  now  that  she  heard  it 
pronounced  in  a  cocksure  manner  by  Major 
Kames  she  found  it  crude  and  a  little  absurd. 
That  Evolution  should  have  toiled  a  million 
years  in  order  to  bring  to  the  birth — Major 
Kames,  just  as  he  was,  sitting  there  opposite 
to  her,  seemed  to  Maud  an  insufficient  motive : 
there  ought  to  be  something  more  at  the  back  of 
it ;  why,  even  Major  Kames,  not  puffed  out  like 
the  flame  of  the  candle,  but  improved — into  a 
saintly  spirit — would  be  less  foolish. 

WTas  he  content  with  his  theory  that  he  was 
going  to  be  puffed  out  ?  Apparently  he  was ; 
but  then  he  probably  thought  that  some  con- 
siderable time  would  elapse  before  that  event ; 
he  did  not  realise  the  force  of  the  saying : 
"  Majus  et  minus  non  variant  speciem."  But 


56  TWO  SINNEKS 

Maud's  thoughts  were  suddenly  disturbed  from 
this  argument,  for  a  waiter  was  bringing  dishes 
to  them.  "  I  hope,"  she  said,  "  that  you  don't 
want  me  to  eat  a  huge  lunch  ?  " 

"  Champagne,"  said  Kames,  as  if  he  had  not 
heard. 

"  I  said  no  champagne,  thanks,"  Maud 
repeated.  "  I  never  drink  wine  at  home." 

"  Pommery  sec,"  said  Kames. 

"  I  can't  imagine  anything  more  absurd," 
said  Maud,  "  than  allowing  oneself  to  be 
'  treated  '  to  champagne." 

"  See  page  three  hundred  and  three,"  said 
Kames,  "  in  completed  works  of  Cock-a-lorum— 
with  an  introduction  by  the  Bishop  of  London  ! 
Waiter,  bring  some  Apollinaris  for  this  lady,  and 
give  me  a  whisky  and  soda." 

Maud  heaved  a  fluttering  sigh,  and  began  to 
eat  the  Jiors  d'ceuvre  in  front  of  her. 

If  only  the  man  sitting  opposite  to  her  was 
not  Major  Kames,  who  was  content  that  Evolu- 
tion should  have  produced  him  just  as  he  was — 
ripe  for  being  puffed  out !  If  only  he  was — 
some  one  else,  some  one  who  had  a  belief,  even 
though  it  was  an  erroneous  belief,  in  our  spiritual 
nature,  or  at  least  a  hope  that  some  "  purpose  " 
lies  behind  this  universe  of  sight  and  touch  and 
some  future  beyond  it !  With  a  sudden  and 
strange  pang  at  her  heart,  she  remembered 
Broughton's  face,  the  way  he  looked,  under  his 
straight  brows,  as  if  searching  for  something. 
And  he  loved  Stella !  Stella  of  all  people ! 
Imagine  Stella  "helping"  any  man;  imagine 


TWO  SINNERS  57 

her  looking  after  him !  Would  she  even  feed 
him  properly  when  he  came  in  tired  from  his 
work  ?  Stella — Stella,  who  was  never  aware  of 
what  anybody  round  her  was  feeling  or  wanting, 
who  never  saw  if  one  was  tired,  or  ill,  or  dull,  or 
unhappy  !  What  was  Stella  thinking  of  all  the 
time  ?  Was  she  picturing  herself  singing  before 
a  huge  audience,  hearing  the  slow  rolling  thunder 
of  applause,  seeing  the  raised  faces  and  receiving 
a  cheque  for  two  or  three  hundred  pounds  and 
compliments  from  the  Manager  ? 

Maud  felt  more  than  ever  unhappy  and 
irritable. 

Kames  had  been  watching  her  all  the  time 
that  he  was  busy  eating. 

'  That's  right,"  he  said  ;  "  put  your  teeth 
firmly  into  that  olive,  it'll  give  you  no  end  of 
moral  strength." 

Maud  half  laughed — but  she  also  frowned. 
Now  that  he  was  her  accepted  lover,  his  remarks 
had  become  very  personal — that  was  not  good 
taste  on  his  part— but  perhaps  she  ought  to 
have  anticipated  it. 

A  waiter  at  the  far  end  of  the  room  drew  a 
cork  with  great  expertness,  making  it  ring  with 
a  deep,  mellow,  vibrating  note,  as  if  the  very 
soul  of  wine  had  suddenly  spoken  a  word. 

'  That's  a  jolly  good  sound,"  said  Kames, 
turning  his  glass  round  and  then  lifting  it  to  his 
lips. 

"  I  thought  you  were  musical,"  said  Maud. 
The  words  were  out  of  her  lips  before  she  could 
repress  them. 


58  TWO  SINNERS 

"  It  isn't  a  pure  note,  of  course,  but  it's  a 
good  one,"  said  Kames. 

"  It  was  rather  splendid,"  said  Maud, 
beginning  to  be  alarmed  at  her  new-found 
capacity  for  rudeness. 

'  Yes,  I  am  musical,  in  a  way,"  said  Kames  ; 
"  I  don't  pretend  to  deny  it." 

"  I  should  never  have  guessed  you  were," 
said  Maud  blandly,  "  if  I  hadn't  heard  you  play. 
You  don't  look  like  a  musician — you  are  too 
well  dressed." 

She  was  thankful  to  be  able  to  say  something 
complimentary  which  was  true. 

"  No  lover  of  art  ought  to  be  anything  but 
well  dressed,"  said  Kames.  :<  The  Greeks  knew 
that — they  knew  better  than  to  represent  Apollo 
with  his  hair  matted  and  his  boots  laced  up 
crooked.  When  that  great  god  of  all  the  arts 
started  for  Parnassus,  lyre  in  hand,  just  to 
show  'em  how  to  do  it,  he  wore  a  special  robe, 
flowing  from  neck  to  heels,  and  his  hair  tied 
up  in  a  knot,  for  all  the  world  like  a  sublime 
female." 

Here  Kames  came  to  a  sudden  stop. 

"  Well,  go  on  about  Apollo,"  said  Maud. 
"  You're  becoming  interesting." 

"  I've  finished,"  said  Kames  ;  "  I  don't  get 
inspired  for  long  at  a  time." 

He  certainly  did  not.  The  rest  of  the  meal 
was  mostly  taken  up  with  remarks  of  a  purely 
personal  nature  which  she  tried  to  parry.  Did 
he  know  that  he  was  boring  her  ?  She  rather 
suspected  that  he  did  know  it,  but  that  he  meant 


TWO  SINNERS  59 

to  take  the  reins  into  his  own  hand,  that  it  was  a 
conflict  of  wills,  and  that  he  was  testing  his  own 
strength — in  view  of  the  future. 

After  lunch  Karnes  insisted  on  going  to  the 
lounge,  and  chose  a  secluded  corner,  where  they 
had  coffee  and  he  smoked.  He  chaffed  her  a 
good  deal  about  not  smoking  herself,  and  then 
owned  that  he  was  glad  that  she  didn't  smoke 
and  that  she  didn't  sing. 

This  implied  a  distinct  criticism  of  Stella — 
and  Maud  objected  to  it.  She  began  to  defend 
smoking  and  singing,  and  argued  that  both  were 
as  suitable  for  women  as  for  men. 

'  Women  don't  know  how  to  sing,  and  never 
will,"  said  Kames  dogmatically.  "  Their  singing 
means  nothing — no  more  than  the  birds.  But 
the  odd  thing  is  that  they  can  act — why,  Heaven 
only  knows." 

Maud  did  not  agree — she  longed  to  leave  him 
and  all  his  ideas  and  his  heavy  lunches  and 
everything.  Except — alas,  alas  ! — his  wealth — 
and  this  was  the  first  day  of  their  engagement ! 

Fancy  years  and  years  of  it !  Wouldn't  it  be 
far  better,  far  happier,  to  be  poor  ? 

Kames  waited  till  he  had  seen  the  two  or 
three  men  who  were  smoking  leave  the  lounge 
and  go  out  of  doors. 

Then  he  suddenly  took  hold  of  Maud's  hands 
and  drew  her  irresistibly  to  him  on  the  seat. 

'  You  forget  that  you're  smoking,"  said  Maud, 
with  a  haughty  exasperation. 

He  released  one  of  her  hands  and  threw  his 
cigar  down. 


60  TWO  SINNERS 

"  You'll  have  to  take  me  just  as  I  am,  smoke 
and  all,"  he  said. 

'  You're  too  self-indulgent,"  she  murmured, 
feebly  resisting. 

"  I'm  strong — so  lam  strongly  self-indulgent. 
I'm  strong,  and  I'm  not  at  all  merciful." 

Then  putting  his  arms  round  her,  he  drew 
her  close,  whispering, 

"  Now  scold,  scold,  scold — if  you  can." 


CHAPTER  VI 

WHEN  Major  Kames  left  the  Moncktons'  lodgings 
late  that  afternoon,  he  was  in  his  most  buoyant 
mood,  for  Maud  had,  after  all,  been  less  difficult 
than  he  had  anticipated.  He  had  trusted  in  the 
last  resort — to  a  certain  force  in  his  personality — 
and  it  had  proved  successful.  Besides,  it  was 
arranged  that  he  was  to  take  her  and  Ursula 
and  Stella — if  she  would  go — to  see  Orpenden 
to-morrow.  That  looked  like  business.  They 
were  to  stay  the  night  at  Orpenden — and  they 
were  to  return  the  next  morning  to  Brighton, 
while  he  went  to  town  to  choose  a  ring  for  Maud. 
Things  were  going  briskly.  The  air  of  the 
Moncktons'  sitting-room  seemed  to  go  on 
vibrating  with  Kames 's  presence  after  he  had 
left.  Some  men — and  women — seem  to  belong 
to  the  physical  world  in  that  vital  conciliation  ; 
those  who  find  them  congenial  breathe  in 
strength  from  their  atmosphere — those  who  are 
out  of  sympathy  are  exhausted  by  it. 

Maud  was  exhausted.    Ursula  found  strength. 

'  You  haven't  thought  of  writing  to  tell 
Aunt  Dorothy  yet  ?  "  asked  Ursula,  after  a 
long  silence  that  followed  Kames' s  exit. 

"No,"  said  Maud,  looking  up  with  a  startled  air. 

"  She  will  be  offended,  Maud,  if  she  sees  it 
first  in  the  papers." 


62  TWO  SINNERS 

Would  Lionel  have  already  sent  the  announce- 
ment to  the  papers  ?  Maud  had  never  thought 
of  that  possibility.  It  made  the  engagement 
seem  terribly  real ! 

"  I  think  I  should  write  to  her  at  once," 
said  Ursula.  '  You  see  she  is  positively  our 
only  near  relative — all  we  have." 

"  I  will  write,"  said  Maud,  and  she  sat 
still,  with  her  hands  idle  on  her  lap,  looking  at 
nothing. 

"  What  was  it,  Ursula  ?  "  she  said  suddenly, 
tf  that  you  and  Lionel  were  discussing  on  the 
sofa,  before  we  went  out  this  morning  1  ': 

"  The  future,"  said  Ursula. 

"  Oh !  "  said  Maud,  and  her  heart  gave  a 
curious  jump.  She  rose  and  took  a  fan  from  the 
mantelpiece  and  spread  it  out  before  her  face. 
"  What  about  the  future  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  About  my  coming  to  you  a  great  deal — at 
Orpenden — after  your  marriage,"  said  Ursula. 
"  He  is  full  of  generosity." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Maud  quickly  ;  "  anything 
else  would  be  absurd." 

"  Men  are  not  always  as  kind  to  a  prospective 
sister-in-law,"  said  Ursula.  Ursula  sighed,  and 
then  broke  the  sigh  off  in  the  middle.  It  was 
too  late.  Maud  heard  it. 

"  Lionel  is  kind — of  course,"  said  Maud. 
What  about  that  little  house  with  the  palings 
in  front  and  the  euonymus  bushes  behind  ? 
Was  Ursula  thinking  of  that  still  ?  She  would 
have  to  live  alone  in  it — a  life  of  solitude, 
broken  by  visits  to  Orpenden.  That  is — if  the 


TWO  SINNERS  63 

engagement  was  not  broken  off.  For  a  moment 
Maud  had  wondered  whether  Aunt  Dorothy  might 
ask  Ursula  to  live  with  her ;  but  that  gleam  of 
hope  hardly  lasted  as  long  as  the  question  took 
to  frame  itself  in  Maud's  mind.  Aunt  Dorothy 
had  always  avoided  having  Ursula  to  stay  with 
her.  She  had  been  even  ingenious  in  inventing 
reasons  why  Ursula  could  not  come,  or,  if  she 
came,  why  she  couldn't  stay.  Aunt  Dorothy 
had  slipped  out  of  the  stream  of  social  life  since 
her  husband's  death,  partly  because  she  had  no 
art  of  entertaining  and  partly  because  she  had 
no  money  to  spend  on  entertaining — partly 
because  nobody  could  stand  her  dog,  and  she 
and  her  dog  were  inseparable.  When  Maud 
or  Stella  visited  her,  people  came — at  least  a  few 
people ;  when  Ursula  visited  Brown  Street, 
people  didn't  come.  This  fact  had  impressed 
itself  upon  Aunt  Dorothy's  not  very  intelligent 
mind.  So  there  was  little  probability  of  a 
permanent  invitation  for  Ursula. 

Maud  could  glance  at  Ursula  askance  from 
her  fan.  Ursula  was  sitting  in  her  usual  manner, 
very  upright,  her  face  composed,  her  iron-grey 
hair  arranged  with  almost  elaborate  care.  She 
had  spoken  all  that  afternoon  calmly  and  cheer- 
fully, without  betraying  one  sign  of  self-con- 
sciousness. The  distress  that  had  been  in  her 
eyes  last  night,  and  the  quiet  sadness  of  this 
morning,  had  gone.  That  one  sigh  had  been 
checked  peremptorily. 

Maud  was  sure  that  she  knew  what  had 
wrought  this  peace  in  Ursula's  mind.  Her 


64  TWO  SINNERS 

sister  had  been  praying  and  had  found  strength 
to  put  aside  thoughts  and  fears  about  herself, 
and  she  had  put  Maud  and  Maud's  affairs,  as 
the  expression  goes — into  the  hands  of  God ! 

The  artless  pathos  of  it  wrung  Maud's  heart. 
What  were  all  the  consolations  of  the  world,  the 
flesh  and  the  devil,  compared  with  this  vision 
of  a  Divine  Father,  to  Whom  all  His  children 
are  of  supreme  consequence  ?  If  only  she  could 
have  that  vision ! 

Maud  got  up  hurriedly  from  her  chair,  and 
seizing  a  footstool,  placed  it  at  Ursula's  feet. 
Then  she  sat  down  upon  it  like  a  child  and  laid 
her  cheek  on  those  faithful  knees.  Ursula  did 
not  speak,  but  she  laid  a  caressing  hand  on  the 
thick  brown  hair,  and  the  two  sisters  kept  a  great 
silence,  while  the  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  ticked 
fretfully.  The  silence  was  only  broken  by  the 
sound  of  Stella  opening  the  door  and  slamming 
it  behind  her.  They  could  hear  her  run  upstairs. 
She  came  into  the  room  gustily. 

"  Hullo,  old  girl !  "  she  called  out  with  a  tone 
of  breezy  surprise,  as  if  she  had  been  at  home 
all  day  and  Maud  had  suddenly  returned.  "  So 
you're  back  at  last !  " 

"  It's  you  who  are  back,"  said  Maud,  raising 
her  head. 

"  I   was   in   to   lunch,"    said   Stella   airily. 
"  Had  a  good  day  ?  "  she  questioned  as  she  laid 
her  golf  clubs  on  the  table. 
'  Very  !  "  said  Maud. 

"  Did  you  tell  him  how  vexed  I  was  not  to 
have  seen  him  ?  " 


TWO  SINNEKS  65 

"  I  said  everything  I  ought  to  have  said," 
replied  Maud.  "  At  least,  I  believe  I  forgot — 
but  of  course  he  understood." 

Stella  was  wearing  a  dark-blue  golf  coat  and 
skirt  and  a  blue  cap.  She  looked  so  handsome 
and  so  full  of  material  prosperity  that  Maud 
secretly  wondered  why  Lionel  had  not  instinc- 
tively preferred  her.  Stella's  want  of  method 
would  not  have  mattered  to  a  very  wealthy  man 
— it  would  matter  to  a  poor  man  !  Stella  would 
never  alter.  The  artistic  temperament,  whether 
it  goes  with  ability  or  without  ability,  is  essen- 
tially a  solemn  temperament — it  takes  itself 
seriously.  Its  own  proportions  seem  gigantic 
to  itself. 

"  Can  you  come  to  Orpenden  with  us  to- 
morrow ?  "  asked  Ursula  gently.  '  We  shall 
stay  the  night  there — and  come  back  early  the 
next  day." 

Maud  looked  hard  at  the  carpet.  How 
splendid  Ursula  was — how  loyal,  how  pro- 
tecting ! 

Stella's  blue  eyes  looked  hard  and  brilliant. 
She  laughed.  '  You're  not  losing  any  time ; 
yes,  I'll  come  with  you — if  there's  room.  When 
you're  married,  Maud,  you'll  have  to  give  dances 
on  my  account.  I  shall  expect  a  lot  from  you — 
when  you're  wealthy.  Keep  your  mind  easy  on 
that  score,"  and  she  walked  towards  the  door, 
leaving  her  clubs  on  the  table. 

"  Your  clubs,  Stella,"  said  Ursula. 

Stella  came  back  and  took  them  up.  "  I 
was  only  joking,  Maud,  of  course.  The  only 

F 


66  TWO  SINNERS 

thing  I  care  for  in  the  world  is  to  be  personally 
distinguished — by  my  own  brains — or  " — and 
here  she  looked  down  at  Maud  with  an  odd  ex- 
pression— "  to  help  some  one  else  to  become 
distinguished." 

Stella  felt  the  righteousness  of  her  attitude 
very  keenly  as  she  went  out  of  the  room,  clatter- 
ing her  golf  clubs.  It  would  do  Maud  good  to 
be  reminded  that,  though  she  was  marrying  a 
wealthy  person,  she  was  not  marrying  a  distin- 
guished person.  George  Broughton  had  more 
distinction  in  his  little  finger  than  Major  Kames 
had  in  his  whole  person  ;  besides — George  was  a 
gentleman. 

Stella  was  not  sure  whether  she  had  made  a 
mistake  in  promising  to  go  to  Orpenden.  She 
was  full  of  a  keen  curiosity  to  see  Orpenden — 
Orpenden,  that  she  might  have  had  herself, 
if  she  had  made  the  least  effort !  Her  own 
future  home  would  be  very  different ;  and  here 
Stella's  thought  sped  ahead  into  the  future. 
She  became  speculative.  How  far  would  it  be 
possible  to  utilise  Aunt  Dorothy  and  Aunt 
Dorothy's  house  ?  She  imagined  herself  living 
in  a  very  charming  though  small  flat  in  town, 
but  giving  her  parties  at  Brown  Street. 

"  Lady  Dorothy  Broughton  and  Mrs.  George 
Broughton  At  Home." 

She  would  do  all  the  arranging  and  all  the 
inviting,  most  ably  and  economically — and  Aunt 
Dorothy  would  pay.  Luncheons  cost  very  little 
if  you  only  bring  brains  to  the  aid  of  them.  If 
you  have  something  very  distinctive — the  sort 


TWO  SINNERS  67 

of  thing  the  artistic  woman  hits  upon  by 
instinct— that  answers  far  better  than  mere 
vulgar  excess  of  things  that  any  shop  could 
provide  you  with. 

Stella  looked  round  her  own  bedroom.  The 
toilet-table  was  heaped  with  a  tangled  mess  of 
articles  and  dirty  hair-brushes.  On  the  mantel- 
piece were  dismal  bottles,  some  nearly  empty, 
some  half  full.  The  necks  of  one  or  two  were 
coated  with  a  sort  of  fur  or  moss  ;  it  was  difficult 
for  the  unscientific  mind  to  decide  whether  it 
was  animal  or  vegetable.  Two  drawers  of  a  small 
chest-of-drawers  were  crammed  to  bursting  while 
the  bottom  drawer  was  empty.  The  wardrobe 
door  was  never  closed,  because  it  is  easier  to 
leave  a  door  open  than  to  shut  it,  and  the  many 
articles  of  clothing  hanging  from  the  hooks  within 
swelled  out  to  a  gigantic  size  and  also  trailed 
over  the  threshold  on  to  the  floor.  Every  chair 
was  piled  with  Stella's  possessions.  Cardboard 
boxes  protruded  from  under  the  bed.  On  the 
bed  was  scattered  everything  that  Stella  had 
worn  yesterday,  and  she  flung  her  golf  clubs  on 
the  top  of  them  because  it  was  easier  (at  the 
moment)  to  keep  them  upstairs  than  to  go  out 
of  her  way  to  take  them  downstairs  and  put 
them  on  their  proper  hook  in  the  hall. 

Looking  round  her  bedroom,  now,  as  she 
flung  off  her  cap  and  coat,  she  pictured  to  herself 
the  delightful  room  she  meant  to  have  in  the 
future,  when  she  was  her  own  mistress  and  could 
take  matters  really  into  her  own  hands  and  not 
be  at  the  mercy  of  lodging-house  keepers,  and 


68  TWO  SINNEKS 

the  rather  provoking  red-tapiness  of  Ursula. 
"  In  perfect  freedom  is  perfect  beauty,"  said 
Stella  to  herself.  She  would  have  pink  curtains. 
Orpenden  would  be  larger,  but  nothing  like  so 
truly  artistic. 

So  possessed  was  Stella's  mind  with  her  own 
gilded  dreams,  that  she  met  Major  Kames  on 
the  following  morning  without  that  sensation 
of  "  shock "  that  she  had  dreaded  and  from 
which  she  had  shrunk  the  day  before.  She 
found  herself  able  to  meet  his  first  greeting 
almost  calmly.  She  had  her  future  before  her— 
waiting  for  her — all  in  good  time.  She  did  not 
even  grumble  because  she  had  to  sit  the  wrong 
way,  side  by  side  with  Lionel  Kames,  in  the 
landaulet.  After  all,  it  was  better  sitting  like 
that  than  if  she  had  sat  facing  him  and  seeing 
his  eyes  fixed  on  Maud  all  the  time.  Even  if 
you  have  given  up  some  man  you  rather  liked, 
it  is  a  little  painful  to  see  him  make  love  to  some 
one  else.  She  was  in  such  good  spirits  that  she 
even  chaffed  Kames  for  possessing  a  large  house, 
when  women  like  themselves  were  living  in  a  hut. 
She  said  that  she  was  certain  Maud  would 
degenerate — she  saw  signs  of  it  already.  In 
fact  she  made  much  cheerful  talk  as  they  sped 
along  high  roads  on  their  way  to  Orpenden. 

But  when  at  last,  after  seventy  miles  lay 
behind  them  in  the  dim  grey  distance,  they 
passed  through  a  little  unspoiled  Surrey  village 
and  slowed  at  some  massive  iron  gates,  she 
became  silent.  The  Moncktons  had  once  lived 
in  a  house  like  this :  but  that  was  a  hundred 


TWO  SINNERS  69 

years  ago — and  no  member  of  the  family  had 
had  the  energy  or  the  ability  to  win  back  the 
lost  heirloom.  It  was  now  in  the  possession  of 
a  noble  brewer. 

The  ear  rolled  smoothly  up  a  long  avenue 
of  chestnuts  and  stood  before  a  fine  Elizabethan 
house,  restored,  but  not  spoiled ;  a  dignified 
place,  full  of  memories — none  concerned  with  the 
family  of  Kames ! 

The  ludicrousness  of  the  situation  struck 
Maud  irresistibly.  She  glanced  at  Stella — at 
Ursula.  Both  looked  solemn. 

'  Welcome  !  "  said  Kames,  who  got  out  of  the 
car  with  joyful  alacrity.  His  eyes  searched  for 
Maud's,  though  he  presented  his  hand  to  Ursula. 

Maud  laughed. 

"Is  it  good  enough  for  you  ?  "  whispered 
Kames,  following  her  closely  up  the  shallow 
flight  of  steps. 

"  Oh,  much  too  good,"  she  said,  smiling  very 
much. 

They  entered  the  great  hall,  solemn  and 
dusky  in  that  February  afternoon.  Up  in  the 
gallery  the  silent  portraits  peered  over  at  the 
intruders.  There  was  still  a  glint  of  colour  in 
the  emblazoned  arms  in  the  great  mullioned 
windows,  while  below,  on  the  hearth,  a  fierce 
red  fire  threw  a  lurid  tint  over  the  rugs  and  over 
the  polished  floor. 

"  Are  there  any  ghosts  here  ?  "  asked  Maud, 

'  Lots  of  'em,"  said  Kames. 

''  The  spiritual  failures,  I  suppose,"  said 
Maud  ;  "  members  of  the  old  stock  who  haven't 


70  TWO  SINNERS 

succeeded  in  stepping  properly  into  the  next 
world  and  are  hanging  on  the  threshold,  not 
quite  human,  yet  not  quite  spirit — still  interested 
in  Orpenden." 

"  Just  as  you  like,"  said  Kames.  "  I'm  not 
particular.  Are  you  ready  for  tea,  Ursula  ?  ': 

Tea  was  spread  on  a  round  table  within  the 
glow  of  the  fire. 

Perhaps  it  was  Stella's  badly  concealed  envy 
that  gradually  turned  Maud's  amusement  into  a 
sort  of  condescending  appreciation. 

Orpenden  was  as  beautiful  a  house  as  Maud 
had  ever  seen — and  Lionel  did  not  praise  it,  nor 
did  he  tell  them  the  price  of  anything,  nor  make 
any  exasperating  remarks.  It  was  evident  that 
the  servants  were  fond  of  him.  Even  Stella 
observed  this  reluctantly. 

''  Ursula,"  whispered  Maud  to  her  sister  as 
they  wandered  upstairs  through  the  great  bed- 
rooms, "  if  this  is  to  be  my  home  it  must  be 
yours,  too.  I  wouldn't  be  here  under  any  other 
condition."  • 

Ursula  shook  her  head,  though  she  pressed 
her  sister's  arm  tenderly.  "  Oh,  no,  dear, 
married  people  should  never  be  burdened  with 
an  intruder !  " 

"  Intruder  !  "  How  little  Ursula  understood  ! 
Why,  Maud  would  be  thankful  for  an  intruder. 

"  I  couldn't  possibly  live  here,"  said  Maud, 
no  longer  in  a  whisper,  but  in  a  very  low  voice, 
"  unless  you  are  constantly  here  too." 

After  dinner,  in  the  drawing-room,  Stella 
made  her  way  straight  to  the  piano  and  opened  it. 


TWO  SINNERS  71 

Then  she  examined  all  the  music  till  Kames 
came  in. 

"  Are  you  waiting  for  an  accompaniment  ?  " 
he  asked  amicably,  seating  himself  at  the  piano. 
Stella's  dimples  deepened  with  satisfaction.  Maud 
had  only  once  heard  Kames  play — and  that  was 
on  the  momentous  occasion  when  Stella  sang  to 
him. 

"  Can't  you  sing — an  old  song — one  of  Grieg's, 
'  Ich  liebe  Dich '  ?  "  asked  Kames,  glancing  round 
at  Stella.  Whether  he  had  ever  guessed  Stella's 
intentions  towards  himself,  Maud  did  not  know, 
but  wealthy  bachelors  are  not  usually  slow  at 
drawing  flattering  inferences  about  themselves. 
Whether  he  guessed  or  not,  he  had  not  shown 
himself  as  anxious  to  conciliate  Stella  as  he  had 
been  to  win  over  Ursula.  But  just  now,  his 
thick,  strong,  amiable  features  wore  a  smile 
half-indulgent,  half-humorous. 

Stella  could  sing  the  song — rather ;  and 
Kames,  after  playing  a  prelude  of  his  own,  struck 
into  the  song. 

Stella  had  brought  her  blue  satin  dress  with 
her — her  favourite  ;  it  did  her  more  justice  than 
any  other  she  had  ever  had.  She  was  wearing 
it  now,  and  she  stood  full  of  happy  expectation. 
She  could  imagine  the  room,  full  of  a  well-dressed 
audience,  and  it  was  to  this  imaginary  audience 
that  she  sang — her  high,  strong  soprano  filling 
the  room,  more  than  filling  it.  She  laid  great 
emphasis  on  the  word  "  Du,"  thereby,  as  she 
thought,  expressing  a  great  emotion. 

When  the  last  note  died  away,  she  stood 


72  TWO  SINNEHS 

waiting  for  some  word  of  approval.  The  first 
time  she  had  sung  to  Kames  he  had  not  shown 
any  particular  appreciation — but  perhaps  he  had 
not  realised  her  powers  ! 

Ursula  was  standing  near ;  her  figure  was 
erect,  but  her  face  was  bent  a  little.  Maud  had 
remained  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  by 
the  door,  and  had  sunk  on  to  a  couch,  out  of 
sight. 

"Very  nicely  warbled,"  said  Kames,  still 
at  the  piano.  "  And  you  make  it  quite  clear 
that '  Du '  is  somebody  or  other." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Stella,  her  voice 
sounding  a  little  sharp. 

"  Look  here,  Stella,  as  your  future  brother- 
in-law  and  your  fervent  well-wisher,  I'm  going 
to  give  you  a  tip  that  is  worth  its  weight  in 
gold." 

Stella's  face  had  become  fixed,  and  her  blue 
eyes  looked  like  beads  of  bright  turquoise, 
brighter  and  more  living  than  the  turquoise 
earrings. 

"  Really,"  she  said  ;  "  well,  what  is  it  ?  " 

'  Your  voice  isn't  so  bad,  and  you  produce  it 
properly — and  when  a  pretty  woman  with  jolly 
hair  and  blue  eyes  gets  up  and  jerks  her  earrings 
and  opens  her  mouth  and  makes  a  harmless  noise, 
she  is  bound  to  please,  if  she  can  get  into  the 
music  halls — but — in  private  life  it's  different — 
you  understand  ?  " 

"  I'm  listening,"  said  Stella  icily.  "  You're 
very  polite." 

"  But  you  must  remember,"   said  Kames, 


TWO  SINNERS  73 

continuing  his  own  train  of  thought  and  talking 
over  the  piano-keys  with  a  much  more  serious 
expression  in  his  face  than  he  usually  wore — 
"  you  must  remember  that  in  respectable  society 
music  doesn't  exist — games  are  what  they  care 
about ;  so  if  you  want  to  make  'em  listen  to  you 
for  a  few  minutes,  you've  got  to  make  yourself 
very  distinctive.  I'm  telling  the  wretched  truth, 
for  your  own  sake." 

"  But  there  is  the  serious  world  of  music," 
said  Stella — "  you  seem  to  forget  that." 

:(  There  are  serious  musicians,"  said  Kames, 
"  but  the  public  who  go  to  the  orthodox  concert- 
rooms  are  mostly  women,  and  they  want  to 
hear  rubbish  :  what  they  want  is  the  sentiment 
of  the  boudoir  tinged  with  religion — they  want 
angels  to  bring  them  bouquets,  lovers,  babies, 
and  gowns  from  Paquin ;  and  the  serious 
musician  has  got  to  sing  this  deuced  seriously." 

Stella  drew  a  profound  breath.  She  was 
amazed  and  also  puzzled. 

"  Anyhow,  what  was  wrong  with  the  way  I 
sang  that  song  ?  "  she  said  impatiently.  '  You 
seem  to  be  a  professional  critic." 

"  It  was  all  wrong,"  said  Kames.  "  First 
of  all,  get  out  of  your  mind  the  idea  that  you 
can  make  anything  dramatic  by  emphasising  a 
word—*  Du,'  '  Du,'  '  Du  mein  Gedanke,'  etc., 
etc. — that's  not  art." 

"  And  pray  what  is  art  ?  I  mean  your  idea 
of  art,  of  course." 

"  Now,  I  want  to  help  you,"  said  Kames, 
in  his  bluff  rapid  voice  ;  "  I'm  going  to  show  you 


74  TWO  SINNERS 

how  to  sing  '  Ich  Hebe  Dich.'  What  voice  I've 
got  is  ruined  by  smoking — but  it'll  do  for  the 
purpose." 

Stella  laughed  outright.  What  sublime  con- 
ceit the  man  had  ! — yes,  his  conceit  was  positively 
sublime.  '  Well,"  she  said,  "  you  do  amuse 
me  !  Yes.  Do  sing  it." 

Maud,  from  her  distant  corner,  could  see 
Stella's  face  distinctly,  she  could  see  how  deeply 
piqued  she  was ;  Kames  was  not  visible,  he 
was  hidden  behind  some  palms.  Ursula  was 
now  sitting  near  the  fire,  her  head  bent,  deep  in 
her  own  thoughts,  waiting  for  the  song. 

He  played  the  preclude  again  in  his  strong 
though  subdued  manner,  and  began. 

His  voice  was  in  extraordinary  contrast  to 
his  powerful  physique  ;  it  was  rather  husky  and 
without  much  strength.  And  yet  in  spite  of 
that,  the  virile  power  with  which  he  breathed 
out  that  brief  passionate  love-song  made  Maud 
tremble  in  her  remote  corner,  and  made  Stella 
desperate,  convinced,  and  yet  not  convinced — 
conscious  that  this  was  art,  and  that  it  was 
different  from  hers,  and  yet  indignant  that  it 
should  be  different ;  almost  ready  to  deny 
that  it  was.  And  above  this  conflict  of  her 
vanity  and  power  of  self-deception,  with  her 
primitive  instinct  for  truth,  was  another  emotion, 
almost  as  poignant,  though  for  many  days  she 
had  fought  hard  to  suppress  it — the  misery  that 
that  song  was  not  sung  for  her — but  for  Maud ! 
The  rush  of  self-pitying  tears  was  beyond  her 
control.  She  tried  to  keep  them  back,  but  one 


TWO  SINNERS  75 

heavy  tear  rolled  down  her  cheek  and  dropped 
upon  her  blue  satin  dress. 

Maud  saw  and  understood.  She  rose  noise- 
lessly from  her  corner,  moved  to  the  door  and 
went  into  the  silent  hall.  The  great  high 
mullioned  windows  now  looked  solid  against  the 
darkness  of  the  night  outside.  The  portraits 
were  dim,  the  faces  looking  white  and  wistfully 
out  at  her.  Within  the  glow  of  the  fire,  Maud 
cowered  down  into  a  chair,  and  hiding  her 
face  in  her  hands,  shivered  from  head  to  foot  in 
that  luxurious  warmth. 


CHAPTER  VII 

"  I'VE  told  the  man  to  wait  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,"  said  Kames,  as  he  entered  the  Moncktons' 
sitting-room  about  a  week  after  their  visit  to 
Orpenden.  "  The  train  doesn't  go  till  three 
o'clock,  and  ten  minutes  will  take  us  to  the 
station."  He  was  looking  round  the  room  as  if 
expecting  to  see  Maud  come  in. 

"  Maud  hasn't  quite  finished  packing,"  said 
Ursula. 

"  Oh,"  said  Kames,  moving  about  the  room 
restlessly.  '  What  about  Lady  Dorothy  ?  Is 
she  so  tremendously  devoted  to  Maud  that  she 
is  in  such  a  hurry  to  have  her  up  there  ?  " 

As  Kames  spoke  he  stopped  by  a  couch  near 
the  windows.  He  threw  himself  unceremoniously 
upon  it,  and  laid  his  head  back  on  the  cushions 
and  closed  his  eyes. 

Ursula  looked  at  Kames's  face,  his  heavy 
eyelids.  She  looked  at  his  short  thick  nose, 
his  strong  chin,  his  thick  symmetrical  lips  now 
slightly  open  as  if  he  was  breathing  heavily. 
From  the  very  first  he  had  absorbed  Ursula  into 
his  life,  almost  forcing  her  to  give  him  sympathy, 
and  in  return  treating  her  with  a  curiously 
warm  caressing  domineering  appropriation,  such 
as  she  had  never  experienced  in  her  life  before, 
and  which  she  could  not  resist.  But  this  very 


TWO  SINNERS  77 

fascination  that  Kames  exerted  over  her  only 
added  to  the  anxiety  with  which  she  anticipated 
the  marriage.  Maud  did  not  love  him — she 
would  make  him  suffer — Maud  would  suffer 
herself.  Unhappiness  was  inevitable  for  both 
of  them. 

It  is  only  in  youth  that  a  man  mistakes  his 
pensioner  for  his  friend,  or  believes  that  a 
coryphee  makes  a  faithful  or  refined  companion 
in  her  old  age.  Kames  being,  by  constitution, 
sceptical  and  humorous,  had  steered  his  way 
through  the  crowd  of  parasites  who  spring  up 
in  the  path  of  wealthy  young  men,  and  had  kept 
himself  clear  of  all  permanent  obligations  and 
entanglements.  Now,  at  the  threshold  of  forty, 
he  longed  to  enter  the  Hall  of  Domestic  Peace 
and  Love  ;  he  wanted  the  incorruptible  Virtues 
(well  dressed)  to  bring  him  a  footstool  to  put 
his  feet  upon,  while  he  sat  quaffing  good  wine 
from  the  golden  bowl  of  life,  and  making  up  his 
mind  to  spend  the  rest  of  his  days  in  the  accom- 
plishment of  civic  duties. 

When  he  threw  himself  on  the  couch  he  meant 
Ursula  to  see  that  he  was  worried  and  feel  dis- 
tressed on  his  account.  She  did  see  it,  and  stood 
looking  at  him  uneasily. 

"  Aunt  Dorothy  is  almost  our  only  relative," 
she  said,  in  apology,  but  as  she  spoke  she  was 
painfully  aware  that  what  appeared  to  be  Aunt 
Dorothy's  excessive  eagerness  to  see  Maud  was 
really  Maud's  execs,  .ve  eagerness  to  get  away 
from  Brighton.  Was  Maud  tormented  by  a 
vague  feverish  delusive  hope  of  lightening  the 


situation ;  of  finding  some  solution  to  an  in- 
soluble difficulty — if  she  could  be  free  from 
Kames — for  a  day  or  two  ?  Was  that  Maud's 
plan? 

"  As  the  old  lady  doesn't  want  me  to  turn 
up  till  to-morrow  I  shall  spend  the  night  at 
Orpenden,"  said  Kames,  without  opening  his 
eyes.  "  Come  here,  Ursula,  thou  blessed  among 
women,  and  stroke  my  hair ;  I've  got  a  slight 
headache." 

"  Lionel,  you  are  spoiled,"  said  Ursula,  but 
she  slowly  came  up  to  the  couch  and  stood 
stiffly  behind  him,  wondering  what  she  ought 
to  do. 

"  Run  your  fingers  through  my  hair — it's 
deucedly  thick  hair  for  a  man  who  is  nearly 
forty,"  said  Kames.  "  Soothe  me  and  make 
me  a  Christian." 

Ursula,  who  had  never  in  her  life  touched  a 
man's  head  before,  was  amazed  at  finding  herself 
passing  her  fingers  through  his  dark  hair,  and 
there  was  silence  for  a  few  moments. 

"  Put  more  devil  into  it,  my  dear  girl,"  said 
Kames  ;  "  you  know  what  I  mean." 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't,"  said  Ursula.  "  Do 
you  mean  do  it  harder  ?  " 

"  No,  I  mean  put  some  '  nip,'  some  so-called 
magnetism,  into  it." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  haven't  any,"  said  Ursula 
humbly,  though  she  laughed. 

Kames  opened  his  eyes,  stretched  a  hand 
over  his  head,  took  both  her  hands,  slapped  his 
own  head  with  them  gently  once  or  twice,  put 


TWO  SINNERS  79 

them  against  his  face  and  kissed  them,  and  then 
got  up  from  the  couch.  He  went  close  to  the 
windows,  looked  down  at  his  motor  standing 
outside,  and  then  yawned. 

The  door  opened  and  Maud  came  in  dressed 
for  her  journey,  followed  by  Stella.  The  ex- 
pression on  Kames's  face  changed  instantly. 
His  uneasiness  had  gone  in  a  moment ;  he  was 
now  fully  alert  and  cheerful. 

"  Say  good-bye,"  he  said  to  Maud.  "  Stella, 
good-bye  ;  I  suppose  I  shan't  see  you  again  for 
a  few  days.  Good-bye,  Ursula  " — and  here  he 
drew  her  very  gravely  apart  and,  bending  down, 
whispered  in  her  ear  :  :<  There  is  something  I 
must  say  to  you." 

'  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Ursula,  looking  up  at 
him  through  her  glasses  with  a  rapid  frightened 
look. 

"  Ursula,"  he  said  solemnly,  "  during  my 
absence,  don't  do  anything  that  you  would  be 
ashamed  to  tell  me  of  on  my  return." 

Ursula  pushed  him  away  with  an  exclamation, 
and  laughed. 

'  You  are  the  most  extraordinary  person," 
she  said.  She  caught  Maud's  eyes  :  they  were 
fixed  on  her  with  a  curious  expression — what 
did  it  mean  ? 

"  Good-bye,  dear,"  she  said,  putting  her  arms 
round  Maud.  Why  was  there  such  a  feeling  of 
vague  disaster  between  the  two  sisters,  such  a 
feeling  of  wrench,  as  if  there  lay  between  them 
some  final  separation  ?  Maud  was  only  going 
away  for  a  week. 


80  TWO  SINNERS 

Maud  laid  her  head  for  a  moment  on  Ursula's 
neck,  and  then  she  kissed  her,  said  "  good- 
bye "  huskily  and  walked  out  of  the  room 
followed  by  Kames.  Ursula  and  Stella  followed 
them  and  stood  at  the  open  door,  watching  them 
get  into  the  motor. 

Maud  waved  her  hand,  Kames  lifted  his  hat, 
and  they  were  gone. 

How  dark  and  narrow  the  stairs  seemed  to 
Stella  !  The  sitting-room  was  blank  and  lifeless. 
From  the  windows  the  sea  looked  the  usual 
dismal  grey  of  that  chalky  coast,  the  water 
disturbed  and  untidy,  without  beauty  or  meaning. 
She  caught  sight  of  Ursula's  face  as  her  half- 
sister  came  back  into  the  sitting-room  and  closed 
the  door  behind  her.  Stella  rarely  noticed  how 
people's  faces  looked,  but  she  was  struck  by 
Ursula's  just  then.  Did  she  too  love  that  big, 
burly,  foolish,  clever,  forcible  man — or  was  she 
only  regretting  Maud  ?  And  the  tragedy  of  it 
was  that  Maud,  as  she  drove  side  by  side  with 
him  to  the  station,  was  ashamed  when  he  pulled 
her  hand  out  of  her  muff  and  pressed  it  in  both 
of  his — ashamed,  because  she  was  becoming  a 
slave  to  his  touch,  and  yet  felt  no  respect  for 
him,  no  admiration,  no  sympathy. 

"  If  you  like  to  change  your  mind  and  let  me 
motor  you  to  town,  it's  not  too  late,"  said  Kames. 
"  We  can  wire  from  the  station — and  I  shall  have 
time  to  get  down  to  Orpenden  afterwards." 

"  No,"  said  Maud  quickly  ;  "  please  don't 
suggest  such  a  thing.  I  would  rather  go  as  I 
usually  do.  Why  make  a  fuss  ?  " 


TWO  SINNERS  81 

"  It's  you  that  makes  a  fuss,"  said  Kames, 
l<  with  your  damned  silly  preference  for  travelling 
in  a  third-class  carriage  along  with  washer- 
women, when  there's  a  motor  at  your  very  door 
waiting  for  you.  Try  and  be  reasonable,  though 
you  are  a  woman." 

"  I  am  reasonable,"  said  Maud,  trying  to 
draw  her  hand  away.  "  I  am  poor,  and  I  travel 
with  poor  people." 

"  Well,  I  will  give  way  on  this  occasion," 
said  Kames.  "  But  don't  forget,  Maud,  that 
the  first  thing  you  have  promised  to  discuss 
with  your  Aunt  Dorothy  is  the  date  of  our 
marriage.  I  will  let  you  off  till  May — but  it 
mustn't  be  later ;  there's  nothing  in  the  wide 
world  for  you  to  do,  or  for  you  to  get.  Come 
just  as  you  are.  For  the  matter  of  that,  there 
isn't  any  reason  why  we  shouldn't  be  married 
in  three  weeks ;  you're  not  a  child — neither  am 
I,  by  all  the  Powers." 

''  I  will  talk  it  over  with  Aunt  Dorothy," 
said  Maud. 

When  they  got  out  at  the  station  she  took 
out  her  little  purse.  '  Will  you  see  my  luggage 
labelled,"  she  said,  "  while  I  get  my  ticket  ?  " 

He  caught  the  purse  in  his  hand.  "  I  will 
get  your  ticket,"  he  said.  "  You  go  and  see 
your  luggage  labelled." 

Maud  dared  not  dispute  before  the  porter 
and  Kames' s  chauffeur ;  she  was  very  angry,  but 
she  said  nothing. 

When  Kames  joined  her,  she  saw  him  hand 
a  first-class  ticket  to  the  luggage  inspector. 

G 


82  TWO  SINNERS 

"  Third-class,"  she  said — "  I  am  travelling 
third." 

"  First-class,"  said  the  inspector,  and  labelled 
her  baggage. 

Maud  could  have  cried  with  vexation. 
'  Will  you  give  me  my  purse  back,  please  ?  " 
she  said,  as  they  walked  along  the  platform.    He 
gave  it  her  back  and  she  opened  it.    He  had  not 
touched  the  contents. 

"  I  owe  you  for  the  ticket,"  she  said.  "  I 
shouldn't  have  spent  the  money  on  first-class  if 
I  could  have  helped  it,  but  you  forced  me  to. 
Perhaps  half  a  sovereign  will  be  enough  " — she 
held  out  the  coin. 

"  Don't  play  the  fool,  Maud,"  said  Kames 
bluntly.  "  Here's  a  carriage  ;  get  into  it,  my 
dear."  He  took  her  arm  and  helped  her  in. 
She  sank  down  into  a  corner  sullenly,  and  looked 
straight  before  her  with  the  air  of  an  offended 
potentate. 

Kames  called  for  a  f ootwarmer  ;  he  arranged 
her  rug  over  her  knees. 

"  I  shall  see  that  nobody  gets  in  with  you, 
and  you  go  straight  through  to  Victoria  without 
a  stop,"  he  said. 

Maud  argued  angrily  to  herself  over  and 
over  again  that  his  real  reason  for  forcing  her 
to  travel  first  was  because  he  wanted  to  have  the 
last  moment  alone  with  her — a  selfish  reason. 

1  You  think  you  are  pleasing  me,"  she  said, 
smiling  icily,  "  but  you  are  not.  Do  you  think 
I  don't  infinitely  prefer  the  company  of  gover- 
nesses and  charwomen  in  a  third-class  carriage, 


TWO  SINNERS  83 

to  the  probability  of  being  boxed  up  with  some 
wife  or  daughter  of  a  wealthy  Brighton  trades- 
man ?  "  She  meant  to  stab  him.  He  did  not 
seem  to  feel  any  sting  in  what  she  said,  nor  to 
imagine  any  reference  possible  to  himself. 

'  Whatever  you  have  done  in  the  past,"  he 
said,  "  you  can't  possibly  travel  third  now." 
Maud  was  about  to  make  a  retort,  but  the  guard, 
passing,  shut  the  carriage-door.  Then  two  or 
three  people  came  up  ;  after  glancing  in,  and 
then  looking  at  Kames,  they  got  the  door  of 
the  next  carriage  opened  for  them.  The  guard 
whistled. 

"  Now !  "  she  repeated,  leaning  out  of  the 
open  window — "  Why  now  ?  "  She  held  her 
hand  out  stiffly — so  that  he  should  understand 
that  she  did  not  intend  to  offer  him  any  warmer 
good-bye. 

"  I  couldn't  allow  my  future  wife  to  travel 
anything  but  first,"  he  said.  The  train  began 
to  move.  She  laughed  a  little. 

"  Do  you  think  that  I  shall  in  any  way 
become  more  refined  or  more  cultured  by 
becoming  your  wife  ?  "  She  spoke  out  of  the 
window.  She  had  hit  him  now !  He  looked 
surprised,  and  then  his  eyes  contracted  with 
displeasure.  As  she  was  swept  beyond  him 
she  could  see  him  standing  on  the  platform, 
raising  his  hat,  his  solid  features  set,  his  mouth 
rigid.  He  had  not  said  "  good-bye." 

She  sank  back  in  her  corner  and  closed  her 
eyes.  She  was  miserable,  but  she  was  sure 
that  she  was  in  the  right.  He  was  far  too 


84  TWO  SINNERS 

self-confident  and  too  self-satisfied.  It  was  not 
until  she  was  half-way  to  London  that  it  occurred 
to  her  that  he  might  be  seriously  offended. 
What  would  he  do  if  he  was  seriously  offended  ? 
She  took  the  glove  off  her  left  hand,  and  looked 
at  her  engagement-ring.  It  was  not  the  usual 
diamond  hoop  :  on  the  band  of  gold  were  two 
magnificent  diamonds  looped  together  with  a 
rope  of  seed  pearls.  What  would  he  do  if  he 
was  seriously  offended  ? 

Maud  began  to  be  uneasy.  Why  had  she, 
of  all  times,  chosen  to  rebuke  him,  however 
righteously,  when  she  had  no  opportunity  of 
finding  out  whether  he  was  likely  to  resent  it — 
and  perhaps  to  make  her  suffer  for  it  ?  Here 
she  was  shut  up  in  that  railway-carriage  helpless 
and  unable  to  do  anything.  Suppose  he  were 
not  to  turn  up  to-morrow  at  Aunt  Dorothy's  ! 

The  more  Maud  thought,  the  more  clear  it 
became  to  her  that  she  had  behaved  in  a  justi- 
fiable, but  a  very  imprudent  way.  She  must 
wire  to  him  the  moment  she  arrived  at  Victoria. 
What  should  she  wire  ?  She  had  neither  pencil 
nor  paper.  She  must  make  up  the  sentence  in 
her  mind  and  get  it  by  heart. 

After  much  consideration  she  decided  to 
write : 

"  Shall  have  no  peace  of  mind  till  I  see  you 
again. — MAUD." 

Surely  that  would  heal  the  wound  she  had 
made  !  It  was  only  five  minutes  to  the  hour  of 
arrival  at  Victoria ;  in  five  minutes  she  would 
be  able  to  write  and  send  off  the  wire,  and  he 


TWO  SINNEES  85 

would  find  it  waiting  for  him  when  he  reached 
Orpenden. 

She  stood  up  long  before  it  was  necessary  and 
folded  up  the  rug  and  put  her  things  together. 
She  was  still  standing  when  the  train  glided 
into  Victoria.  There  on  the  platform  was  old 
Jackson  to  meet  her.  Instead  of  the  worried 
and  slightly  wounded  look  he  usually  wore  when 
he  had  to  meet  the  "  young  ladies  "  and  help 
them  out  of  a  third-class  carriage,  he  wore  the 
air  of  dignity  that  most  became  him.  He  saw 
her  at  once  and  hurried  forward.  Maud  could 
have  burst  out  laughing  at  the  solemn  respect 
with  which  he  saluted  her.  She  was  now, 
evidently,  a  much  more  important  person  than 
she  had  been  before. 

"  I  must  send  off  a  wire,  Jackson,"  she  said  ; 
"  I  shall  only  be  five  minutes." 

It  was  with  a  sensation  of  intense  relief  that 
she  saw  the  clerk  at  the  telegraph-office  read 
her  wire  and  apparently  understand  it.  He  did 
not  even  assure  her  that  there  was  no  place  in 
the  British  Isles  called  Orpenden.  He  accepted 
it  without  a  murmur. 

Once  settled  in  Aunt  Dorothy's  aged 
brougham  she  found  herself  staring  blankly 
out  of  the  window  at  the  dismal  view  of  Hyde 
Park  on  a  February  afternoon,  not  thinking 
of  the  leafless  trees  and  the  sodden  grass,  but 
electrified  by  a  sudden  fear.  Suppose  he  wasn't 
on  his  way  to  Orpenden  ?  Suppose  he  was  so 
angry  that  he  had  decided  to  go  somewhere 
else  ? 


86  TWO  SINNERS 

He  might  possibly  have  gone  back  to  Princes 
Hotel,  and  stayed  the  night  there.  Then  he 
wouldn't  get  the  telegram !  She  must  wire 
again — and  to  Princes  Hotel.  The  carriage 
was  now  turning  up  Brown  Street.  Maud  would 
write  a  wire  the  moment  she  got  in.  If  only 
the  carriage  would  go  quicker  !  How  intolerable 
a  horse-carriage  was  after  the  swiftness  of  a 
motor-car ! 

"  There's  no  wire  or  anything  for  me  ?  " 
she  demanded  the  moment  that  she  was  inside 
the  dark  London  hall. 

There  was  nothing  for  her.  Her  ladyship 
was  in  the  drawing-room,  expecting  her.  Maud 
went  upstairs.  She  entered  the  familiar  room, 
saw  the  chintz-covered  chairs,  the  water-colours 
she  knew  by  heart,  the  confusion  of  knick-knacks 
on  little  tables,  the  photographs  ;  and  drowning 
her  greeting  and  also  her  aunt's  voice  came 
deafening  screams  of  recognition  from  Kiddie, 
the  dog,  whose  general  nervous  excitement  was 
raised  to  fever-heat  by  the  conviction  that  all 
strong  selfish  emotions  ought  to  be  freely  and 
fearlessly  expressed.  This  philosophy  of  personal 
development  had  been  enthusiastically  instilled 
into  that  small  canine  pet  by  his  mistress,  Lady 
Dorothy  Broughton  ;  it  is  a  philosophy  that 
appeals  straightaway  to  the  mind  of  the  toy 
Pomeranian,  and  does  not  need  the  authority 
of  Nietzsche. 

"  Before  I  even  kiss  you,"  cried  Maud,  putting 
her  arms  round  the  neck  of  a  short,  dark,  elderly 
lady  with  grey  piled-up  hair  and  a  beaked  nose 


TWO  SINNERS  87 

like  Ursula's — "  Before  I  even  kiss  you  I  must 
rush  off  a  wire." 

"  My  dear,"  shouted  Aunt  Dorothy,  trying 
to  raise  her  voice  above  the  noise  Kiddie  was 
making — "  You  are  in  love  !  " 


"  Now,  Maud,"  said  Lady  Dorothy,  "  now  that 
the  wire  has  been  sent  off  and  your  mind  is  at 
rest,  I  want  to  know  all  about  Major  Kames." 

Maud  had  taken  off  her  veil,  and  seated 
herself  ready  to  pour  out  tea.  Lady  Dorothy 
sat  down  in  a  large  easy-chair  near  to  her,  and 
held  Kiddie  on  her  lap.  The  old  familiar 
drawing-room  was  full  of  lights  and  shadows 
cast  by  the  flickering  fire  and  breaking  the 
premature  dusk  of  a  London  afternoon.  Brown 
velvet  curtains  shut  off  the  back  drawing-room, 
and  these  curtains  were  never  drawn  aside 
unless  Lady  Dorothy  had  one  of  her  rare  dull 
dinner-parties  or  At  Homes,  to  which  some  of  her 
old  cronies  gathered.  On  those  occasions  the 
drawing-room  was  stretched  to  its  full  size. 
It  was  full  of  incongruous  furniture  and  miscel- 
laneous chairs,  ornaments  of  no  beauty  and  not 
much  value,  fatiguing  photographs  of  friends, 
cushions  made  of  colours  that  did  not  blend 
well ;  and  yet  the  whole  effect  was  of  space  and 
comfort  and  brightness. 

"  Where  is  Kiddie's  cup  1  "  asked  Maud. 
"  Is  this  it  ?  "  and  she  touched  a  white  cup 
ornamented  with  pink  roses. 

'  Yes,"  said  Lady  Dorothy,  "  that's  his." 

Kiddie  barked  two  or  three  times  with  that 


TWO  SINNERS  89 

ear-piercing  quality  of  noise  peculiar  to  small 
hysterical  dogs. 

"  Did  he  break  the  old  one  ?  "  asked  Maud. 

"  It  wasn't  his  fault,"  said  Lady  Dorothy. 
"  Jackson  put  it  out  of  his  reach,  poor  angel, 
and  he  broke  it  trying  to  get  at  it.  Jackson 
doesn't  really  care  for  the  pet.  You  remember 
he  never  did.  He  looks  after  him  merely  as  a 
duty  :  he  doesn't  throw  his  heart  and  soul  into 
what  he  does  for  him — what  a  difference  it 
makes !  And  it's  such  a  pity — it  just  prevents 
Jackson  from  being  a  real  help  to  me.  If  people 
only  would  realise  what  they  might  be." 

'  When  did  you  buy  the  cup  ?  "  asked  Maud. 

"  A  week  ago.  It  took  my  fancy  :  simple 
little  roses." 

;<  It  doesn't  go  very  well  with  the  service," 
said  Maud,  repressing  her  smile. 

"  Kiddie  doesn't  know  that,"  said  Lady 
Dorothy,  looking  sharply  into  Maud's  face  and 
winking  both  her  eyes. 

"  No,  he  doesn't,"  said  Maud.  "  He's  merci- 
fully spared." 

'  Well,  tell  me,  child,  about  Major  Kames ; 
I  am  dying  to  hear  everything,"  said  Aunt 
Dorothy. 

Maud  filled  Kiddie's  cup  with  milk,  put  a 
dash  of  tea  in  it,  and  placed  it  close  to  the  edge 
of  the  tray. 

"  The  cup  is  a  very  bad  match,  Aunt 
Dorothy,"  she  said. 

"  I  really  oughtn't  to  have  bought  it," 
returned  her  aunt.  "  I  thought  I  could  carry 


90  TWO  SINNERS 

the  colour  of  the  service  in  my  mind,  and  at 
the  time  I  really  thought  it  went  well  with  the 
cup,  but  it  didn't.  I  had  meant  to  tell  Jackson 
to  give  me  a  cup  of  the  service  to  take  with  me 
to  the  shop,  but  at  the  last  moment  I  forgot. 
There  are  always  so  many  things  to  think  of. 
What  I  really  ought  to  have  done  was  to  have 
sent  the  cup  back,  but  unfortunately  Kiddie 
was  present  when  I  unfastened  the  paper,  and 
he  saw  the  cup.  After  that  I  scarcely  liked  to 
take  it  away.  You  see  he  understood  at  once 
that  it  was  his,  and  one  can't  explain  everything. 
One  is  to  a  certain  extent  on  one's  honour  with 
a  dumb  animal." 

"  He's  not  dumb,"  said  Maud. 
'  Well,  he  can't  take  in  complicated  argument, 
and  one  doesn't  want  to  destroy  a  dog's  con- 
fidence, and  so  that  is  the  history  of  the  cup. 
Now,  about  Major  Kames !  I'm  anxious  to 
know  how  and  when  and  where  and  why,  and 
everything  about  him." 

"  Kiddie  will  guess  everything,"  said  Maud, 
"  when  he  sees  him,  don't  you  think  so,  Aunt 
Dorothy  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  of  it,"  said  Aunt  Dorothy.  "  He 
never  makes  a  mistake." 

"  I  wish  I  had  Kiddie's  insight  into  cha- 
racter," said  Maud.  "  I  always  make  mistakes." 
'  Yes,  but  Kiddie  is  nearer  to  the  Great 
Fount  of  Nature.  He  divines,"  said  Lady 
Dorothy.  Then,  after  she  had  quieted  down 
from  the  sublimity  of  her  remark,  she  looked 
as  if  she  were  going  to  say  again  :  "  And  now 


TWO  SINNERS  91 

about  Major  Kames."  So  Maud  said  hastily : 
"  So  Kiddie  was  ill— the  other  day  ?  " 

"  He  was  ill,"  replied  Lady  Dorothy,  caressing 
her  dog.  '  The  Vet  said  he  had  taken  a  chill. 
It  was  during  the  first  day  of  that  severe  frost 
and,  of  course,  his  thick  jacket  was  being  cleaned. 
I  told  Jackson  not  to  let  it  go  till  February  was 
over — however,  he's  well  now.  Well,  dear,  do 
let  us  talk  about  Major  Kames.  I  can't  tell 
you  what  a  surprise  it  was  to  me.  I  hadn't  the 
slightest  suspicion  there  was  anything ': 

"  Oh,  please  give  me  Kiddie's  cup  for  his 
second  supply,"  said  Maud.  "  I  was  quite 
forgetting.  You  never  told  me  if  the  Vet  ordered 
massage.  That  is,  I  believe,  the  latest  thing  for 
internal  inflammation,  though  I  should  have 
thought  it  would  have  made  it  much  worse. 
What  did  he  order  ?  " 

Lady  Dorothy  put  down  her  own  cup. 
"  Complete  rest,"  she  said  solemnly. 

"  Complete  rest,"  repeated  Maud. 

"  And  I  told  him  that  it  was  impossible  to 
give  Kiddie  complete  rest,  the  darling's  brain  is 
so  active." 

Kiddie's  second  cup  being  placed  before  him, 
he  lapped  it  up  languidly,  and  then  turned  his 
face  towards  Maud  and  stared  hard  at  her. 

'  What  is  it,  darling  ?  "  murmured  Lady 
Dorothy.  "  He  knows  that  something  has  hap- 
pened. He  saw  it  the  moment  you  came  into 
the  room.  I  never  saw  anything  like  the  insight 
the  dog  has.  Does  Kiddie  know  all  about  its 
cousin  Maud-y-Maud  ?  I  shall  be  very  much 


92  TWO  SINNERS 

interested  to  see  how  he  behaves  when  he  sees 
Major  Kames  to-morrow.  It  will  be  a  real  test." 

Maud  raised  her  eyebrows  and  went  on  with 
her  tea. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  ought  to  break  off  the 
engagement  if  Kiddie  doesn't  like  him  ?  "  she 
asked,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

Lady  Dorothy  laughed.  "  Not  quite  that — 
but,  of  course,  I  count  on  Kiddie's  taking  a  fancy 
to  him.  Well,  Maud,  he  has  given  you  a  charm- 
ing ring.  I  didn't  notice  it  till  this  moment. 
He  has  begun  well.  When  my  poor  nephew 
George  marries  he  won't  be  able  to  afford  any 
trinkets,"  and  Lady  Dorothy  sighed,  and  looked 
as  if  she  were  thinking  deeply. 

"  Does  he  come  to  see  you  often  ?  "  asked 
Maud,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Pretty  often,"  said  Lady  Dorothy.  "  He 
is  a  dear  good  boy ;  he  has  only  two  faults — 
he  isn't  kind  to  Kiddie,  and  he  doesn't  think 
enough  of  his  own  future.  I  understand  that  there 
is  no  money  in  a  University  career,  but  he  would 
go  in  for  it — whereas  he  had  a  splendid  offer 
of  business  when  he  took  his  degree  at  Cambridge. 
Austin  has  all  the  money  and  does  the  gentleman. 
George  knew  he  would  have  practically  nothing, 
and  he  might  have  been  at  his  age,  twenty- eight, 
rolling  in  money — as  the  saying  is  ;  but  instead 
of  this  he  goes  in  for  science,  and  talks  as  if  we'd 
nothing  in  this  wide  world  to  do  but  to  find  out 
what  we're  made  of " 

"  It  is  rather  interesting,  don't  you  think  ?  " 
said  Maud, 


TWO  SINNERS  93 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  Lady  Dorothy.  "I 
would  far  rather  not  know.  Well,  you  haven't 
told  me  yet  anything  about  Major  Kames.  He's 
at  present  merely  a  name  to  me.  You  didn't 
say  in  your  letter  even  whether  he  was  old  or 
young." 

'  What  do  you  call  young  ?  "  asked  Maud, 
her  voice  of  interest  changing  to  one  of  lassitude 
in  a  moment.  "  For  instance,  Kiddie  is  only 
six  years  old,  but  he  isn't  young." 

"  He's  past  the  verge  of  middle  age — I 
suppose,"  said  her  Aunt  Dorothy.  And  this 
expression,  middle  age,  struck  a  note  of  sadness 
upon  the  strings  of  Lady  Dorothy's  heart. 
Dogs'  lives  are  so  much  shorter  than  the  lives 
of  human  beings.  They  come  and  they  go 
swiftly — middle  age  is  succeeded  rapidly  by  a 
year  or  two  of  what  might  be  called  elderly  life, 
and  then  the  grey  hairs  come  upon  the  once  red 
brows  and  chin,  the  time  of  bounce  and  frolic 
is  over,  the  walk  is  slow,  the  steps  uncertain, 
and  as  old  age  gathers  its  months  together, 
death  comes  at  last — and  what — after  death  ? 
Lady  Dorothy  was  half  inclined  to  favour 
the  idea  of  transmigration  of  souls.  A  good 
dog  might  become  a  man  in  the  next  life — a 
thoroughly  respectable  man  of  no  particular 
talent  or  social  position. 

"  My  difficulty,"  said  Maud,  "  about  trans- 
migration is  that  so  few  people  will  ever  get  to 
heaven  if  they  have  to  wait  till  they  cease  to 
care  for  anything  on  earth.  In  all  my  life  I've 
never  met  anybody  who  had  got  to  the  right 


94  TWO  SINNEES 

stage — have  you  ?  As  far  as  I  can  make  out," 
she  continued,  "  in  Nirvana  you  will  only  meet 
Orientals — and  perhaps  St.  Francis  and  St. 
John  of  the  Cross." 

Lady  Dorothy's  mind  had  slipped  off  the 
subject.  Maud's  argument  required  more  con- 
centrated thought  than  she  was  accustomed  to 
make,  and  she  took  refuge  in  conversation  with 
Kiddie.  After  that,  Jackson  came  in  to  put 
on  the  lights  and  to  poke  the  fire,  so  that  when 
Maud  gathered  up  her  gloves  and  veil  and  went 
out  of  the  drawing-room,  Lady  Dorothy  suddenly 
awoke  to  the  fact  that,  in  spite  of  her  ardent 
curiosity  and  her  real  interest  in  her  niece,  she 
was  not  any  nearer  to  knowing  all  about  Major 
Kames  than  she  had  been  before  Maud's  arrival. 

Maud  made  her  way  up  the  narrow,  dark 
stairs,  and  walked  into  the  bedroom  she  usually 
occupied  when  she  was  staying  at  Brown  Street. 
She  was  amazed  to  find  the  room  cold  and 
empty.  She  rang  the  bell,  and  when  the  maid 
appeared  she  was  taken  into  another  room,  one 
reserved  for  important  persons  !  Her  luggage  was 
already  in  possession  of  Lady  Dorothy's  own 
maid !  Maud  looked  round  the  room.  So  she 
had  become  an  important  person  !  A  transforma- 
tion had  taken  place  in  her  :  from  being  nobody 
she  had  become  somebody — and  all  owing  to — 
Major  Kames ! 

Lionel  Kames !  And  what  made  Lionel 
Kames  important  ? 

Apparently  the  whole  world,  even  a  harmless 
person  like  her  Aunt  Dorothy,  conspired  with 


TWO  SINNEES  95 

the  powers  of  Evil  to  support  Mammon.  Wealth 
was  respected  and  poverty  was  not ;  and  what 
about  the  human  personality  involved  ?  That 
seemed  to  count  for  very  little  !  What  was  the 
good  of  trying  to  blind  herself  to  the  fact  that 
as  Major  Karnes's  wife  she  was  something 
different  from,  something  far  superior  to  what 
she  was  as  merely  Miss  Maud  Monckton.  In 
the  face  of  that  undeniable  transformation  how 
could  she  dream  even  for  a  moment  of  breaking 
off  the  engagement  ?  The  idea  was  absurd  I 
Let  us  all  worship  Mammon,  and  give  him  the 
credit  he  deserves.  What  in  this  world  is  a 
woman  likely  to  get  from  satisfying  a  sensitive 
conscience  ?  It  was  possible — she  did  not  think 
it  was  probable — but  it  was  just  possible,  that 
even  Ursula  vaguely,  perhaps  unconsciously, 
felt  that  Maud  was  more  important  than  she 
had  been,  though  less  virtuous  !  What  a  horrible 
idea  ! 

Why  has  human  nature  been  soaked  to  the 
very  bones  in  snobbishness  ?  Cinderella  triumphs 
because  in  the  end  wealth  and  power  are  at  her 
service.  Virtue  prevails,  that  is  true — but  it 
must  be  Virtue  crowned  with  gold.  For  nineteen 
centuries  men  have  clung  with  a  tiger  ferocity 
to  the  regalia  of  the  Founder  of  Christianity  in 
the  conviction  that  without  it  He  would  be 
useless  to  them.  They  want  to  look  round  and 
boast  to  the  world  :  "  Our  Lord  and  Master 
can  trace  His  birth  (see  exclusive  and  perfectly 
reliable  documents)  directly  to  the  Supreme 
Potentate  of  the  Universe,"  for,  if  not,  all  the 


96  TWO  SINNERS 

pride  of  the  world  with  its  princely  palaces  and 
its  priceless  treasures,  its  inventions,  all  that 
belongs  to  sight  and  touch,  the  very  crown  of 
Human  Effort,  may  crumble  and  dissolve  into 
nothing,  and  we,  sceptics  as  we  are,  be  left  alone 
with  a  cold,  attenuated,  starlike  memory  of  a 
strange  crucified  Man  and  His  Faith  in  the 
Unseen.  Maud  got  some  relief  for  her  feelings 
in  this  accusation  against  the  "  religious  "  world 
in  general. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IT  was  all  right !  A  wire  had  come  from  Orpen- 
den  from  Major  Kames  that  evening.  She  was 
to  expect  him  at  four  o'clock  the  following  day. 

Now  that  she  was  certain  of  his  forgiveness 
she  wondered  how  she  could  have  doubted  it. 
Men  in  love  always  forgive — they  are  not  capable 
of  being  really  critical.  If  Maud  had  any  regret 
in  her  mind  for  what  she  had  said  to  him,  it 
was  because  she  had  not  spoken  strongly  enough. 
Culture  and  refinement  she  had  already,  and  he 
had  not,  but  she  was  socially  uplifted  by  her 
engagement  to  him.  In  the  eyes  of  the  world 
third-class  might  be  good  enough  for  Miss  Maud 
Monckton,  but  it  wasn't  suitable  for  Mrs.  Kames. 
Maud  was  almost  inclined  now  to  pride  herself 
on  having  had  the  boldness  to  utter  a  sarcasm 
that  was  good  for  Lionel's  morals,  though  it 
was  risky  from  a  diplomatic  point  of  view.  She 
took  a  vow,  there  and  then,  that  she  would 
never  increase  his  natural  conceit  by  admitting 
to  him  that  she  was  aware  that  she  gained 
anything  by  her  marriage  with  him. 

"  Are  there  any  relatives  of  Major  Kames 
that  you  will  have  to  go  and  see  while  you  are 
here  ?  "  asked  Lady  Dorothy. 

Maud  had  never  heard  Kames  mention  the 
word  "  relative."  Somehow  she  had  not  thought 

H 


98  TWO  SINNERS 

about  it — being  profoundly  occupied  with  the 
question  whether  she  could  endure  Major  Kames 
himself.  Her  thoughts  had  never  wandered  so 
far  from  this  central  question  as  to  ask  herself 
whether  she  could  endure  his  relatives,  or  even 
whether  he  had  any.  All  she  knew  was  that  his 
father  and  mother  were  not  living,  and  that  he 
had  been  the  only  child — and  heir  of  his  father's 
accumulated  wealth. 

"  I  don't  know  if  he  has  any  relatives,"  said 
Maud. 

"  He  must  have  relations,"  said  Lady  Dorothy. 
'  Everybody  has — and  he  must  have  intimate 
friends." 

'  There  are  all  the  people  round  Orpenden. 
He  seems  to  entertain  a  great  deal  when  he's 
there,"  said  Maud ;  "  I've  heard  him  speak  of 
friends,  but  not  of  relatives." 

'  What  were  the  Kameses  ?  "  asked  Lady 
Dorothy. 

'  Wealthy  tradespeople,"  said  Maud  bluntly. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Lady  Dorothy. 

"  And  if  he  has  any  relatives  they  will,  of 
course,  be  tradespeople,"  cried  Maud.  "  I  must 
ask  about  them — as,  of  course,  I  should  like  to 
be  introduced  to  them." 

Maud  put  her  nose  in  the  air  as  she  spoke. 
After  the  humiliation  of  being  made  "  some- 
body "  merely  because  of  her  relationship  to 
Major  Kames,  it  was  rather  agreeable  to  feel 
that  he  needed  her  protection — he  and  his 
relatives — it  equalised  the  give  and  take ;  it 
soothed  her  vanity. 


TWO  SINNERS  99 

Lady  Dorothy  looked  at  her  and  stroked 
Kiddie's  head  without  replying. 

"  Money  is  everything,"  said  Maud  with  an 
air  of  authority  that  she  would  not  have  assumed 
on  her  last  visit  to  Brown  Street.  "  The  cheap 
houses  in  seaside  towns  are  full  of  people  like 
myself  who  have  birth,  and  no  particular  ability, 
and  no  money — who  have  drifted  down  through 
incompetent  ancestors,  and  now  count  for  nothing 
in  modern  society.  Nobody  has  any  use  for  us. 
The  one  question  nowadays  is — In  what  style 
can  you  live  and  entertain  ?  " 

"  There  are  some  gentlemen  left,"  said  Lady 
Dorothy,  vaguely  and  yet  firmly. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Maud,  "  just  as  there  are 
some  Christians  left.  But  do  they  count  ? 
Just  look,  Aunt  Dorothy — there  is  that  little 
man,  General  Broughton's  son,  whom  Stella 
calls  '  Jumper,'  because  he  moves  so  slowly ; 
there's  your  typical  modern  man — I  don't  say 
gentleman,  but  '  man  of  the  world ' — he  can 
just  manage  to  cheep  out  the  latest  music-hall 
phrase.  He  has  birth,  but  it  isn't  that  that 
keeps  him  going — he  happens  to  have  money. 
If  he  was  poor  he  would  be  employed  to  lick 
down  envelopes,  for  he  hasn't  brains  enough  to 
address  them  correctly." 

:t  My  dear  Maud,  you  talk  like  a  Socialist," 
said  Lady  Dorothy,  who  was  beginning  to  tire 
of  the  subject,  and  indeed  she  had  never 
raised  it. 

"  I'm  not  a  Socialist.  What  I  should  like 
to  be  is — a  Christian — but  I  can't,"  and  Maud 


100  TWO  SINNERS 

turned  away  and  began  looking  at  herself  in  the 
gilt  mirror  that  hung  on  the  wall  near. 

"  I  think  you  are  sometimes  a  little  morbid, 
child,"  said  Lady  Dorothy. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  I  am,"  said  Maud,  "  because 
I  am  haunted  with  the  idea  of  God — God — God, 
instead  of  realising  that  what  is  of  world-wide 
importance  is  the  daily  round  here  and  at  our 
lodgings  in  Brighton." 

Lady  Dorothy  was  so  eager  to  meet  Major 
Kames,  so  full  of  curiosity  about  him,  that  she 
had  returned  from  her  drive  with  Maud  earlier 
than  was  necessary,  and  they  were  both  in  the 
drawing-room  waiting  for  him  to  make  his 
appearance  when  this  conversation  took  place. 
Lady  Dorothy  did  not  quite  grasp  Maud's 
remarks,  but  she  replied,  "It's  not  healthy  "  ; 
and  then  added : 

'  You  do  look  well  in  that  dress,  child,"  for 
she  caught  the  reflection  of  Maud  in  the  mirror 
and  Maud's  self  looking  at  it.  It  was  a  relief 
to  change  the  talk  to  something  that  was  not 
introspective. 

"  I  look  well,  for  me,"  said  Maud.  She  did 
look  very  beautiful,  for  the  dress  was  a  pale 
fawn  and  made  Maud's  hair  and  eyes  con- 
spicuous. She  looked  distinguished,  and  her 
cheeks  were  slightly  tinged  with  the  excitement 
of  wondering  how  Lionel  Kames  would  look  at 
her  after  the  quarrel — what  he  would  say  ! 

Perhaps  the  suppressed  emotion  in  the  minds 
of  both  ladies  communicated  itself  to  the  red 
Pomeranian — for  he  was  more  than  usually 


TWO  SINNERS  101 

troublesome,  moving  round  and  round  in  Lady 
Dorothy's  lap,  and  then  suddenly  springing  off 
it  with  a  nerve-destroying  bark,  because  of  some 
imaginary  and  hostile  noise  that  he  pretended  to 
hear. 

When  a  real,  though  faint,  sound  of  the 
front-door  bell  caught  the  dog's  ear  he  burst 
into  a  paroxysm  of  rage,  which  Lady  Dorothy 
explained  as  the  result  of  their  having  come  in 
so  early  from  their  drive — defrauding  him  of 
half  an  hour  of  fresh  air. 

"  Don't  you  think  he  had  better  go  out," 
said  Maud,  "  and  be  brought  in  later  ?  " 

But  Lady  Dorothy  was  sure  that  after  a 
moment  or  two  he  would  quiet  down. 

"  After  the  first  shock  of  seeing  Major  Kames 
is  over,"  she  said,  "  he  will  take  in  the  situation." 

Maud  looked  angrily  at  the  dog,  but  felt 
helpless.  There  was  no  time  to  argue  for  the 
door  opened  and  Jackson  announced  "  Major 
Kames." 

"  Now,  it's  only  a  nice-y-nice-y  man,"  mur- 
mured Lady  Dorothy  to  the  palpitating  fury  in 
her  arms  as  she  gathered  him  up  and  rose  to  meet 
her  future  nephew-in-law. 

Maud  watched  the  meeting — watched  the 
tall  powerful  figure  and  the  bent  head  as  he 
kissed  Lady  Dorothy's  hand  and  stood  a  moment 
looking  down  at  her  with  his  large  brown  eyes 
measuring  her  from  head  to  foot ;  then  he  looked 
swiftly  at  Maud.  His  forgiveness  was  not 
complete.  He  had  not  forgotten  !  There  was  a 
certain  fixity  in  his  eyes  that  Maud  had  not  seen 


102  TWO  SINNERS 

there  before,  a  reserve  in  the  composure  of  his 
mouth.  Still  there  he  was,  safely  hers,  and  her 
Aunt  Dorothy  had  already  fallen  in  love  with 
him,  and  was  assuring  the  frantic  Kiddie  that 
he  would  soon  get  to  like,  beyond  words,  the 
new,  kind,  good  friend  of  little  dogs. 

Maud  held  out  her  hand  and  then  leaned 
forward  and  kissed  her  future  husband's  cheek 
in  spite  of  her  aunt's  presence — then  she  stood 
back  holding  both  his  hands,  and  laughed. 

'  You  are  sorry  to  see  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I've  been  dreading  it  ever  since  I  saw  you 
last,"  said  Kames,  and  he  laughed  too,  but  not 
quite  in  the  old  way.  Lady  Dorothy  could  not 
hear  what  they  said  because  of  Kiddie. 

"  You  mustn't  think  that  Kiddie  dislikes  you, 
Major  Kames,"  screamed  Lady  Dorothy  ;  "  the 
poor  darling  barks  at  everybody,  he  is  so  sensitive 
and  highly  strung.  Dogs  are  just  as  sensitive 
as  human  beings — often  more  so — and  the 
difficulty  is  that  my  poor  darling  doesn't  like 
to  be  left  alone  a  single  instant — not  a  single 
moment.  It  isn't  the  poor  little  atom's  fault 
that  he  is  nervous  ;  he  was  born  so,  and  we  must 
take  people  as  they  are,  mustn't  we  ?  " 

"  We've  jolly  well  got  to,"  said  Kames, 
taking  a  proffered  seat.  "  All  the  same,  Lady 
Dorothy  you're  too  kind  to  that  little  brute  ; 
you're  ruining  his  immortal  soul  and  sending 
him  to  a  place  where  you'll  never  meet  him 
again.  Boo-ooh ! "  he  added,  throwing  his 
voice  in  a  deep  threatening  manner  at  the 
astonished  dog. 


TWO  SINNERS  103 

"  How  unkind  !  "  exclaimed  Lady  Dorothy. 
'  You  really  are  too  hard !  It  isn't  the  poor 
little-ittle  atom's  fault  that  he  is  nervous.  But 
he  really  is  feeling  better.  He  likes  you,  Major 
Kames.  I  told  Maud  he  would.  The  pet  has 
wonderful  insight." 

"  I'll  let  him  off  with  purgatory,"  said  Kames. 

Perhaps  it  was  some  subconscious  under- 
standing of  the  gravity  of  Kames's  argument 
that  overawed  the  dog,  but  anyhow  Kiddie's 
barks  had  grown  less  tense  and  less  rapid  :  they 
cooled  down,  so  to  speak,  into  low  prolonged 
growls,  each  finishing  off  with  a  savage  yelp  ; 
and  then  finally  he  settled  down  in  a  position 
from  which  he  could  cover  Kames  with  eyes  that 
were  full  of  scornful  suspicion. 

The  truce  was  made  the  most  of  by  Maud, 
who  strained  every  nerve  to  make  herself  charm- 
ing— not  merely  because  she  wanted  to  obliterate 
the  disagreeable  impression  she  had  made  on 
Lionel  yesterday,  but  because  she  wanted  to 
give  her  Aunt  Dorothy  no  opportunity  of  making 
secret  or  pronounced  comments  on  her  engage- 
ment. 

Kames  thawed  beneath  the  warmth  with 
which  both  women  treated  him.  His  face 
relaxed  and  he  talked  freely,  taking  Lady 
Dorothy  completely  into  his  confidence.  Maud 
did  not  know  whether  to  be  amused  or  gratified 
at  seeing  her  Aunt  Dorothy  becoming  coquettish 
under  the  stimulation  of  his  presence.  It  was 
amazing  how  easily  he  drew  her  into  the  circle 
of  his  influence.  Was  it  conscious  on  his  part 


104  TWO  SINNERS 

or  unconscious  ? — was  it  merely  the  magnetic 
attraction  a  large  body  has  for  a  smaller  one, 
an  attraction  that  cannot  be  helped  or  prevented  ? 

"  How  absurd  life  is  !  "  thought  Maud  ; 
"  and  the  worst  of  it  is  that  we  are  too  profoundly 
interested  in  it  to  see  the  absurdity." 

Everything  was  running  smoothly  till  Jackson 
opened  the  door.  Then  all  Maud's  self-com- 
placence and  peace  vanished  in  one  second  of 
time,  and  she  sat  stiffly  staring  at  George 
Broughton  as  he  walked  into  the  room. 

Broughton  did  not  need  any  of  Lady 
Dorothy's  explanations  when  she  introduced 
the  two  men  to  each  other.  He  shook  hands 
with  Kames  cordially,  and  the  two  men  stood 
together  talking.  What  a  contrast !  Both  were 
of  the  same  height,  but  there  the  likeness  ended. 
They  were  men  of  utterly  different  type — different 
as  steel  is  from  cast  iron,  although  the  material 
out  of  which  both  are  made  is  the  same — so 
thought  Maud.  She  had  so  far  lost  her  self- 
control  that  she  got  up  from  her  seat  and  moved 
away,  afraid  of  hearing  Kames' s  voice,  afraid  of 
his  phrases — everything  that  would  contrast  him 
with  George  Broughton. 

She  moved  to  the  other  side  of  the  room  where 
the  piano  stood  by  the  closed  brown  velvet 
curtains.  She  opened  the  piano. 

"  Aunt  Dorothy,"  she  called  out,  "  I  didn't 
tell  you  that  Lionel  plays  on  the  piano.  Wouldn't 
you  like  to  hear  him  play  ?  " 

Of  course  Lady  Dorothy  would  be  charmed 
tcThear  him  play.  She  was  indeed  ready  to  be 


TWO  SINNERS  105 

charmed  with  Major  Kames  under  any  circum- 
stances. "  And  George,  come  here  and  have 
your  tea,"  she  called. 

"  Go  and  play,"  said  Maud,  coming  up  to 
the  two  men  and  taking  Kames's  arm — "  George, 
won't  you  have  tea  ?  Aunt  Dorothy  has  poured 
you  out  a  cup." 

So  she  separated  them.  Kames  did  as  he 
was  told.  He  seated  himself  at  the  piano.  The 
little  group  near  the  fire  could  see  his  face  well ; 
the  face  undeniably  had  a  certain  power,  Maud 
could  not  deny  it. 

Kames  struck  some  chords  in  the  bass  with  a 
force  that  made  Lady  Dorothy  wince.  Kiddie 
sprang  to  his  feet  in  her  lap  and  barked  in  his 
shrillest  tone. 

st  Be  quiet,  darling,"  said  Lady  Dorothy. 
Kiddie  barked  with  greater  rapidity.  "  Don't, 
darling,  it's  nice-y-music-y -music,"  implored  his 
mistress. 

But  Kiddie  had  another  opinion.  Maud 
went  to  the  bell.  "  Shall  I  ring  for  Jackson  ?  " 
she  said. 

Lady  Dorothy  spoke  loving  words  of  sweet 
persuasion  into  her  pet's  ear,  but  to  no  purpose. 
Maud  rang  the  bell. 

Major  Kames  meanwhile  had  turned  round 
in  his  seat,  and  was  asking  which  of  the  two 
performers  Lady  Dorothy  would  rather  hear. 
Broughton  got  up  and  leaned  over  his  aunt's 
chair. 

"  Let  me  have  the  little  beggar,"  he  said. 
By  a  superhuman  effort  Kiddie  was  imprisoned 


106  TWO  SINNERS 

by  his  mistress's  two  hands  and  smothered  away 
in  lace  and  shawls,  so  that  only  muffled  sounds 
could  be  heard  snorting  out  of  the  confused  heap 
in  her  lap. 

"  Don't  take  him,  George,"  she  cried.  "  He's 
trying  not  to  bark  ;  he's  so  considerate,  he  wants 
to  try — and  bear  it  1  Please  go  on,  Major  Kames." 

But  Kames  had  already  risen,  and  to  add  to 
the  confusion  Jackson  announced  names  at  the 
door,  and  two  elderly  ladies,  chums  of  Lady 
Dorothy's,  entered  the  room. 

Broughton  made  a  dive  at  the  bundle  on 
his  aunt's  lap  and  pulled  out  the  half-suffocated 
Kiddie.  In  spite  of  his  aunt's  protests  he  held 
Kiddie  up  by  his  tail. 

''Jackson,"  he  called.  "Wait.  Take  Kiddie." 

"  George,  how  can  you  behave  like  this  ?  ': 
said  Lady  Dorothy  angrily. 

"  It'll  do  him  a  world  of  good,"  said 
Broughton,  dangling  the  darling  in  the  air  and 
going  to  meet  Jackson  half-way  across  the  room. 
"  It  sends  the  blood  to  the  brain  and  helps  to 
nourish  it." 

What  Lady  Dorothy's  two  intimate  friends 
really  thought  of  the  performance  was  not 
visible.  They  maintained  a  diplomatic  attitude 
of  sympathy  towards  all  parties  and  merely 
uttered  colourless  exclamations. 

Kiddie  alone  was  silent — being  unable  to 
articulate  with  his  head  hanging  down.  He 
was  full  of  suppressed  rage.  It  was  not  merely 
because  of  the  great  indignity  which  he  suffered, 
but  he  had  been  deprived  of  the  opportunity 


TWO  SINNERS  107 

of  expressing  his  opinion  about  the  entrance  of 
two  new  people  :  he  had  lost  one  of  those  valuable 
educational  moments — and  there  are  too  few 
of  them — in  which  the  sacred  personality  is 
enabled  to  develop  itself  by  active  contact  with 
the  rich  objectivity  of  life. 

Jackson  received  the  insulted  animal  into  his 
arms,  and  hastily  left  the  room. 

Lady  Dorothy  was  too  much  upset  by  the 
occurrence  to  know  what  she  was  saying  to  her 
visitors.  Broughton  took  the  opportunity  of 
going  behind  Maud,  who  was  standing  apart,  and 
asked  after  her  sisters  in  a  low  voice  as  if  it  were 
a  mystery.  That  was  why  he  had  come  that 
afternoon ;  to  ask  after  Stella  !  Maud  read  it 
in  his  eyes.  She  told  him  that  Ursula  and 
Stella  were  both  well.  He  looked  as  if  it  was  a 
matter  of  supreme  importance  and  inexpressible 
pleasure,  and  then  fell  silent.  So  he  loved 
Stella  with  all  the  freshness  and  warmth  and 
simplicity  of  an  unspoiled  nature !  Standing 
so  close  to  him,  his  face  only  a  little  above  the 
level  of  hers,  Maud  forgot  for  a  moment  the 
presence  of  Kames,  of  her  aunt,  of  everybody, 
and  searched  his  features  with  a  tragic  curiosity 
for  truer  knowledge  of  the  character  that  lay 
below  them.  She  gazed  at  him  as  if  at  some 
picture  that  symbolised  that  which  her  spirit 
searched  for  and  could  not  find  in  the  sordid 
presentations  of  ordinary  life. 

Broughton  stood,  with  his  eyes  lowered, 
quite  unconscious  of  her  for  a  moment.  Then 
some  involuntary  movement  on  her  part  brought 


108  TWO  SINNERS 

his  eyes  to  hers.  Broughton  smiled.  Was  he 
thinking  of  her  already — as  his  sister  ? 

"  I  must  go,"  said  Kames's  voice  at  her  ear. 
'  Will  you  come  to  the  door  with  me  ?  " 

She  had  to  answer.  In  a  confusion  she  saw 
him  take  his  leave — she  heard  him  offer  Lady 
Dorothy  a  box  at  the  theatre  the  following  night ; 
she  heard  her  aunt  accept,  and  she  followed  him 
to  the  door.  Must  she  go  out  of  the  drawing- 
room  with  him  ?  She  could  have  cried  aloud  with 
self-pity !  Kames  opened  the  door  and  ordered 
her  with  his  eyes  to  go  out  before  him. 

She  obeyed  and  the  door  was  closed — they 
stood  together  outside  alone. 

Maud  tried  to  pull  herself  together.  She 
even  laughed,  though  there  was  nothing  in  the 
world  to  laugh  at.  Kames  said  nothing,  but 
he  put  his  arm  round  her. 

'  You  can  understand  now  why  nobody  who 
can  help  it  comes  to  No.  2,  Brown  Street  ?  "  said 
Maud,  pretending  to  support  herself  by  putting 
her  hand  on  his  arm,  but  really  pushing  him  away. 

'  Why  do  you  push  me  away  ?  "  demanded 
Kames  swiftly. 

He  drew  her  away  from  the  door  towards  the 
head  of  the  stairs  with  an  arm  that  would  allow 
of  no  resistance. 

He  was  bracing  himself  to  say  something — 
something  that  was  deeply  painful  to  him,  and 
which  he  said  almost  harshly  as  he  suddenly 
turned  upon  her  and  looked  into  her  eyes. 

'  There's  never  been  anything  between  you 
and  Broughton  ?  " 


TWO  SINNERS  109 

Maud's  eyes  flickered. 

"  No,"  she  said. 

"  Nothing  ?  " 

"  I've  told  you,"  she  answered. 
'  You've  told  me,"  he  replied,  and  he  still 
waited. 

"  Nothing.    Less  than  nothing." 
'  What    do    you    mean  ?  "    he    questioned, 
speaking  in  his  most  rapid  tone. 

'  He  has  never  thought  of  me  for  a  moment," 
said  Maud. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

'"  I  do  know  it." 

'''  Then  you  know  that  he  is  interested  in 
another  woman  ?  "  He  had  clasped  both  her 
arms  with  his  hands,  and  looking  down  into 
her  face,  seemed  to  draw  the  words  from  her  by 
sheer  insistence. 

"  Yes." 

"  Who  ?  " 

Maud  closed  her  lips  and  then  opened  them 
and  said  "  Stella  !  " 

Kames  threw  back  his  head.    He  laughed. 

"  The  poor  innocent  devil !  "  he  said  and  he 
drew  Maud  on  to  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

Maud  tried  in  a  feeble  way  to  push  his  arm 
from  her  waist. 

"  It's  hard  lines  that  some  of  the  best  fellows 
in  the  world  make  such  fool  marriages.  These 
scientific  chaps — these  philosophers  and  fellows 
who  work  in  laboratories — don't  know  anything 
about  women.  Give  'em  a  plaster  figure  or  a 
grey  goose  with  a  pair  of  earrings  clapped  to  its 


110  TWO  SINNERS 

head  and  it's  all  one  to  them  till  it's  too  late. 
Because  a  saint  in  the  heat  of  the  day  succumbs 
to  a  glass  of  beer,  it's  hard  lines  that  he  should  be 
compelled  to  spend  the  rest  of  his  life  in  the 
taproom." 

"  Don't  speak  in  such  an  insulting  way," 
burst  out  Maud,  trying  to  wrench  away  his  hand. 

"  I'm  not  insulting  you,''  he  said ;  "  I 
wouldn't  for  the  whole  world,  though  I  doubt 
if  you  could  say  the  same  to  me." 

He  took  her  head  in  his  hands  and  held  it, 
looking  down  at  her  as  if  her  face  was  the  page 
of  a  difficult  book. 

Maud  did  not  reply  ;  she  lowered  her  eyelids 
till  they  were  nearly  closed,  and  she  knitted  her 
brow  and  waited  to  be  released. 

"  A  man  who  loves  may  be  willing  to  be 
kicked  now  and  again,  provided  it  is  made  up 
for  in  the  proper  way ;  but  you're  the  hardest 

woman  in  the  world  to  deal  with — harder " 

Here  Kames  pulled  himself  up  sharply. 

'  You  mean,  harder  than  any  of  the  women 
you  have  known."  Maud  had  raised  her  eyes 
and  flashed  a  look  of  anger  at  him. 

"  No,  'pon  my  honour,"  said  Kames.  "  I 
wouldn't  say  such  things  to  you  " — a  dull  red 
colour  coming  into  his  face.  "  I'm  not  an 
infant,  Maud — you  know  that,"  he  went  on, 
drawing  her  close  to  him ;  "  but  whatever  I 
have  been  I  am  now  at  this  moment  yours 
absolutely,  and  shall  always  be — there  is  no 
other  woman  in  the  world — you  are  everything 
to  me — everything." 


CHAPTER  X 

THEY  were  sitting  at  lunch  in  the  long,  narrow 
dining-room  at  No.  2,  Brown  Street.  Kiddie  was 
seated  by  the  fire  in  his  basket.  Jackson  brought 
in  a  letter  and  handed  it  to  Lady  Dorothy. 

"  From  George !  "  said  Lady  Dorothy,  as 
soon  as  she  had  put  up  her  glasses. 

Maud  went  on  eating  without  making  any 
reply. 

Her  Aunt  Dorothy  tore  open  the  letter,  spread 
it  out  and  began  to  read. 

"  Great  news,"  she  said,  putting  down  the 
letter.  "  But  I  knew  it  would  come  to  that. 
So,  there's  both  of  you  off.  Only  Ursula  left — 
and  'pon  my  word,  I  was  beginning  to  think  that 
you  would  follow  in  her  steps  and  remain  an 
old  maid.  But  I  was  wrong,  you  were  waiting 
for  Major  Kames,  my  dear — the  most  sensible 
thing  you  could  do.  A  very  charming  man, 
and  with  the  wealth  he  has  got  he  is  a  sugar  plum. 
Now  George  is  going  to  marry  Stella.  Do  you 
hear,  Maud ! "  The  good  lady  took  up  the 
letter  again  to  read  such  important  family  news 
to  her  niece. 

"Don't  read  it  aloud,"  said  Maud.  "It's 
not  right,  not  proper."  She  would  have  risen 
from  the  table  if  she  had  dared. 

But  Lady  Dorothy  did  not  hear,  and  if  she 


112  TWO  SINNERS 

had  heard  she  would  have  thought  the  remark 
most  absurd. 

"  Did  you  guess  it  was  coming  ?  "  she  asked. 

'  Yes,"  said  Maud. 

'  Well,  here  goes,"  she  began,  reading  aloud 
in  a  jaunty  voice  that  was  mellowed  by  satis- 
faction. 

"  MY  DEAR  AUNT  DOROTHY, 

"  I  am  letting  you  know  before  any  one 
else  because  I  owe  it  to  you  that  I  ever  met  her 
— I  speak  of  Stella  Monckton — to  whom  I  am  just 
engaged.  I  know  only  too  well  that  I  am  only 
a  poor  man.  ('  Quite  true,'  interposed  Lady 
Dorothy.  '  I  think  he  has  two  hundred  a  year 
of  his  own,  not  a  penny  more,  and  I  suppose  his 
salary  is  something  absurd.')  A  poor  man,  but 
with  the  encouragement  and  help  of  a  girl  like 
Stella  any  man  would  be  able  to  realise  the  very 
best  that  is  in  him.  That  realisation  she  puts 
before  all  others  for  the  man  she  loves — even  if  it 
means  the  sacrifice  of  her  own  career.  She  is  the 
most  unselfish  woman  I  have  ever  met.  Think 
what  a  stimulus  she  will  be  to  my  work — to  all 
that  I  hold  most  worth  living  for  !  She  is  more 
than  all  I  had  ever  hoped  for.  I  must  catch  the 
five  o'clock  train  to  Brighton,  to-day,  but  shall 
run  in  and  see  you  and  my  future  sister-in-law, 
if  I  can,  between  three  and  four. 

"  Your  affectionate  nephew, 

"  GEORGE  BROUGHTON." 

"  Dear,   good,    sentimental   fellow,"    added 


TWO  SINNERS  113 

Lady  Dorothy,  "  I  don't  quite  understand  what 
he  means  by  Stella's  career — do  you  Maud  ? 
Stella's  career  ?  " 

Maud  had  placed  her  elbow  on  the  table, 
and  was  resting  her  forehead  on  her  hand. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Maud,  trying  to  speak 
distinctly. 

'  Well,  the  boy  is  very  much  in  love,"  said 
Lady  Dorothy,  folding  the  letter.  "  He's  not 
a  catch  by  any  means,  but  if  any  girl  wants  a 
really  good  man — there  he  is — if  he  only  would 
behave  with  more  kindness  to  Kiddie.  I  can't 
think  why  he  ill-treats  him,  it's  not  like  his 
general  character,  but  perhaps  scientific  people 
are  like  that.  I  don't  like  it.  I  must  stay  in 
and  see  him  when  he  comes.  After  all  it  doesn't 
much  matter  putting  off  those  calls — and  we 
got  plenty  of  fresh  air  this  morning  !  Dear  me  !  " 

Lady  Dorothy  got  up  from  the  table,  carrying 
the  letter  with  her. 

'  What  will  poor  Ursula  say  to  you  two  girls 
going  off  and  leaving  her  alone  ?  However,  such 
things  can't  be  helped  !  Some  people  must  be 
left  behind."  Lady  Dorothy  was  so  much 
excited  by  the  news  that  she  did  not  notice 
Maud's  extraordinary  silence. 

Maud  walked  behind  her  upstairs,  carrying 
Kiddie  in  her  arms  to  her  aunt's  bedroom. 

'  You  can  see  George  even  if  he  comes 
before  I  am  up,  and  you  can  send  him  up  to 
me.  It  will  be  delightful  news  to  tell  Major 
Kames  when  he  comes  to  dinner !  I  suppose 
George  didn't  know  when  he  was  here  yesterday 

i 


114  TWO  SINNEKS 

afternoon.  Perhaps  he  had  only  just  written  to 
Stella,  and  didn't  get  her  answer  till  last  night 
or  the  first  thing  this  morning !  Dear  me,  I 
wish  somebody  would  take  pity  on  Ursula ! 
Occasionally  women  of  her  age  marry — but  not 
often,  and  though  the  dearest  woman  in  the 
world,  she's  not  what  one  would  call  a  likely 
person — in  that  respect."  Lady  Dorothy  began 
preparing  herself  to  lie  down. 

"  I  really  shan't  let  Kiddie  see  George.  The 
poor  angel  will  not  have  forgotten  the  way  he 
was  treated  yesterday  and  will  be  in  fits  if  he 
sees  the  unkind-y-kind."  Lady  Dorothy  turned 
round  and  stared  up  at  her  niece  who  was  acting 
as  maid  to  her  at  the  moment. 

"  Shall  I  ask  Eugenie  to  take  him  out  for  a 
walk  between  half-past  three  and  half-past 
four  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better,"  said  Maud. 

"  Eugenie  is  always  grumpy  when  I  ask  her 
— people  are  so  selfish  about  dogs !  However, 
ring  the  bell,  dear,  I'll  make  the  venture — 
I'll  brave  the  dragon." 

Maud  rang  the  bell  and  after  waiting  for  a 
moment  till  the  maid  appeared,  she  went  out 
of  the  room  and  closed  the  door  softly  and 
went  down  into  the  drawing-room.  She  looked 
out  of  the  window. 

It  was  one  of  those  piercingly  cold  February 
days  that  forbid  any  thought  of  the  coming 
spring,  grey  pavement,  grey  roadway,  grey  sky 
topping  the  grey  houses  opposite — the  chilliness 
of  the  air  could  be  seen.  She  went  to  the  same 


TWO  SINNERS  115 

gilt  mirror  into  which  she  had  looked  on  the 
previous  afternoon,  and  which  had  reflected 
back  an  image  of  brilliant  graceful  womanhood. 
What  did  it  reflect  now  ?  She  went  close  up 
to  it  and  gazed  at  a  white  face. 

She  went  upstairs  to  her  room.  She  dressed 
for  going  out  and  put  on  her  furs.  Then  she 
rang  the  bell  and  told  the  maid  that  if  Dr. 
Broughton  called  her  ladyship  was  to  be  told  at 
once.  She  explained  that  she  was  going  out 
herself  for  a  walk,  and  was  not  sure  when  she 
would  be  in. 

The  very  sting  of  the  cold  wind  outside  was  a 
physical  relief  to  the  girl.  Also  it  is  easier  to 
conttcol  any  emotion  when  one  is  walking  fast. 
She  scarcely  noticed  where  she  was  going  except 
that  she  knew  she  was  walking  in  the  Park  and 
pacing  along  westwards.  The  people  she  met 
seemed  to  her,  in  her  present  mood,  more  like 
dressed  figures  than  human  beings.  They  all 
walked  as  if  untouched  by  any  keen  emotion ; 
even  though  one  here  or  there  moved  with  an 
unusual  haste,  it  was  in  order  to  save  time,  not 
because  of  any  driving  force  behind — moral  or 
spiritual.  Had  all  these  people  forgotten  that 
they  were  the  victims  of  a  strange,  inevitable 
destiny  ?  Didn't  they  know  that  they  were 
without  their  consent  forced  into  this  world, 
loving  or  hating,  and  crying  out  for  a  God  who 
makes  no  answer  ?  She  left  the  Park  behind  her 
and  went  along  streets — street  after  street,  and 
at  last  she  fancied  that  her  steps  were  followed 
by  the  steps  of  another.  A  sudden  fear  came 


116  TWO  SINNERS 

over  her,  interrupting  her  thoughts.  She  was 
not  accustomed  to  walk  alone  in  London.  Where 
was  she  ?  The  streets  were  long  and  the  houses 
the  homes  of  the  mediocrity — neither  rich  nor 
poor ;  there  were  not  many  people  passing  up 
or  down  them.  She  looked  up  the  road  to  see  if 
she  could  see  a  policeman,  or  a  taxi  stand.  She 
could  see  nothing,  the  road  was  empty.  She 
walked  faster  and  turned — because  she  feared 
to  turn  back  and  face  what  might  turn  out  to 
be  a  persistent  shadow — into  a  side  road.  The 
dismal  houses  looked  down  upon  her  without  a 
sign  of  life. 

Suddenly  she  saw  a  spire ;  a  few  yards  off 
was  a  red  brick  church.  The  gates  were  open, 
the  door  was  open.  Beside  it  was  a  large  notice 
announcing  a  "  Mission,"  and  giving  the  hours 
of  the  services. 

She  pushed  the  inner  door,  and  found  herself 
inside  a  large,  bare  church.  She  would  look  for 
the  sacristan  and  ask  him  the  way  to  the  nearest 
taxi  stand. 

It  was  dusky  inside  and  the  lights  hanging 
before  the  altar  were  conspicuous  bright  objects. 
At  the  farthest  end  of  the  aisle  the  vestry  door 
stood  open  and  two  men  talked  within.  She 
could  see  that  one  was  a  priest  and  the  other 
a  sacristan.  The  priest  was  tall  and  thin  and 
angular  in  his  cassock,  the  sacristan  was  short 
and  stout.  Maud  could  see  that  as  she  moved 
aside  into  a  chapel  and  sat  down  on  a  chair  to 
wait  till  they  had  finished  their  conversation. 

In  a  few  moments  she  heard  the  priest  coming 


TWO  SINNEKS  117 

towards  her.  She  looked  up.  He  had  entered 
the  chapel.  He  was  middle-aged,  his  light  hair 
was  mixed  with  grey,  his  features  were  pro- 
nounced, almost  severe,  and  his  pale  grey  eyes 
had  a  strange  look  in  them,  a  look  of  penetrative 
humour,  and  a  look  of  fanaticism.  It  was  a  rare 
combination.  It  almost  alarmed  Maud.  She 
rose  hastily,  as  if  to  escape. 

"  Did  you  want  to  speak  to  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  so  ashamed,"  began  Maud,  "  I  only 
came  here  because  I  had  lost  my  way  and 
couldn't  find  a  taxi." 

Wearing  an  old  shabby  cassock,  the  man 
she  addressed  was  yet  a  great  gentleman  in 
appearance,  in  manner,  in  every  detail.  Maud 
found  it  difficult  to  remove  her  eyes  from  his 
face. 

Psychologists  tell  us  that  whole  schemes  of 
thought  create  themselves  below  the  margin 
of  our  consciousness,  and  often  lie  there  dormant 
until  something  happens  to  lift  them  to  the 
surface  and  we  are  surprised  at  our  new  and 
unexpected  view  of  things. 

Maud  had  been  unaware  that  she  had  any 
craving  to  unburden  her  thoughts  to  any  one, 
but  as  she  stood  there  in  the  twilight  of  that 
February  afternoon  in  the  quiet  refuge  of  that 
chapel  there  came  upon  her  a  great  longing  to 
put  her  case  before  an  impartial  critic  whom  she 
would  never  meet  again.  What  brought  that 
inner  want  to  consciousness  was  the  personality 
of  this  man.  Had  he  been  uncouth  in  appearance 
or  jocose  in  manner,  had  he  worn  an  air  of  spiritual 


118  TWO  SINNERS 

unction,  she  would  have  left  that  chapel  with  her 
secret  undisclosed.  As  it  was  at  his  bidding 
she  seated  herself  again,  and  began  staring  hard 
at  her  muff,  doubting  how  she  should  begin. 

He  sat  down  on  a  chair  in  front  of  her,  and 
leaned  over  the  back  so  as  to  face  her. 

"  I  will  get  you  a  taxi  later  on,"  he  said. 

"Thanks  so  much,"  said  Maud.  "Thank 

you "  but  she  found  no  further  words,  and 

yet  she  waited  for  them  to  come. 

"  You  have  something  to  say  about  yourself," 
he  suggested.  He  spoke  in  such  an  impersonal 
manner  and  with  such  consummate  ease,  that 
Maud  felt  that  she  must  always  have  intended 
speaking  to  him  about  herself,  only  that  the 
opportunity  had  not  arisen  before. 

"  No  one  will  interrupt  us,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
have  time.  It  is  the  business  of  my  life  to  listen 
as  well  as  to  talk.  Are  you  troubled  with 
religious  difficulties  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  religious  difficulties,"  said  Maud, 
'*  because  I  have  no  religion." 


HERE  Maud  looked  very  straight  into  the  face 
opposite  to  her.  She  was  getting  accustomed  to 
the  dimness  of  the  chapel,  lit  only  by  lamps 
hanging  before  the  altar  close  beside  them,  and 
a  light  in  the  aisle  by  the  vestry  door.  She 
thought  she  saw  in  that  face  opposite  to  her  the 
physical  traces  of  a  life  of  nervous  strain.  It 
was  as  if  the  sculptor  had  moulded  features  of 
an  intellectual  type,  features  of  a  man  in  the 
full  strength  of  his  age,  and  then  had  scored 
the  forehead  and  the  lips  with  a  chisel.  But 
the  pale  grey  eyes  were  undimmed  and  ardent. 
Five  minutes  ago  she  had  never  seen  this  man, 
he  was  an  utter  stranger ;  yet  she  had  made  an 
admission  to  him  such  as  one  makes  rarely  to 
an  intimate  friend.  Because  he  looked  a  notable 
person  was  she  taking  him  for  more  than  he  was 
worth  ?  Suppose  that  in  spite  of  the  distinction 
of  his  face  he  was  a  mere  sacerdotalist,  satisfied 
with  the  husk  of  Catholicism  and  only  capable 
or  reiterating  commonplaces. 

"  There  is  something  else  you  want  to  talk 
about  ?  "  he  suggested.  He  did  not  show  a 
flicker  of  surprise  at  her  dismissal  of  religion. 

;<  There  are  things : '  Maud  began,  "  but 

why  should  I  trouble  you  ?  " 

"  You  are  going  to  take  some  step  you  are 


120  TWO  SINNERS 

doubtful  about,"  he  suggested,  "  and  would 
like  to  talk  it  over  ?  "  He  spoke  as  if  it  were 
the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that  she,  a 
perfect  stranger  to  him,  should  confide  in  him — 
it  seemed  to  Maud  at  that  moment  the  most 
natural  thing.  Indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  he  had 
sprung  into  existence  for  that  purpose.  There 
he  was,  waiting.  She  lowered  her  eyes  now 
and  spoke  down  at  the  muff  on  her  lap.  She 
was  determined  to  speak  without  any  emotion. 
She  would  put  her  question  in  the  most  im- 
personal way  she  could. 

"  It  is  a  little  discouraging  to  an  ordinary 
profane  person  like  myself,"  she  began,  "  to 
find  that  really  good  men  have  so  little  dis- 
crimination. For  instance  why  does  a  man, 
who  has  all  the  world  to  choose  from,  a  man 
of  real  mental  ability  and  of  moral  refinement, 
why  does  he  insist  on  marrying  a — pair  of 
turquoise  earrings  ?  " 

She  raised  her  eyes  in  a  flash  and  met  the 
grey  ones  that  were  looking  at  her. 

"  It  is  not  a  conundrum,"  she  added,  leaning 
forward  and  looking  fixedly  at  him. 

There  was  the  very  slightest  contraction  of 
his  closed  lips,  but  no  smile ;  the  smile  lay 
behind  them. 

"  No  man  has  all  the  world  to  choose  from," 
he  said. 

Maud  listened  almost  without  drawing  her 
breath. 

"  If  the  man  is  all  you  say,  how  many  women 
will  he  have  met  who  are  his  match  ?  " 


TWO  SINNERS  121 

That  was  true.  How  many  ?  Had  she 
ever  herself  met,  among  the  many  girls  she 
knew,  Broughton's  match  ?  Was  she  herself 
his  match  ? 

"  You  must  remember,"  he  went  on,  "  that 
Nature  cares  nothing  for  the  individual.  Nature 
cares  only  for  the  continuation  of  the  race. 
If  men  and  women  in  the  flower  of  their  age  went 
about  the  world  able  to  see  each  other  clearly 
and  critically  would  they,  as  they  do  now,  rush 
madly  into  bondage  for  the  rest  of  their  lives  ? 
They  would  weigh  and  hesitate — until  youth 
was  past.  So  Nature  has  wisely,  for  her  own 
purposes,  made  them  blind.  Marcus  Aurelius 
marries  Faustina,  Octavia  marries  Antony." 

"  Then  you  don't  think  '  falling  in  love '  is 
sacred  ?  "  she  said,  as  if  summing  up  his  words 
into  one  sentence.  She  leaned  forward  and 
spoke  slowly.  "  Knowing  that  love  is  blind, 
you  would  not  blame  a  woman  if  she  married  a 
man  she  didn't  love  ?  " 

This  was  the  question  of  her  life.  He  was  to 
decide.  He  was  to  judge  dispassionately,  from 
the  point  of  a  man  who  is  standing  back  from  the 
stage  and  looking  on  life  as  a  spectator,  a  spectator 
who  is  impartial,  yet  profoundly  serious. 

"  '  Falling  in  love  '  and  '  love ' — are  two 
different  matters,"  he  said. 

Maud  tried  to  look  at  him  without  flinching. 
She  noticed  without  moving  her  own  eyes  from 
his,  minute  details  about  this  man  that  had 
hitherto  escaped  her.  She  observed  the  length 
of  his  hands,  the  gauntness  of  his  wrists  and 


122  TWO  SINNERS 

elbows.  She  observed  that  his  lips  were  moulded 
with  a  certain  flatness  and  thickness  almost  to 
the  corners,  that  he  had  a  scar  upon  his  chin, 
that  his  ears  were  small,  and  that  his  grizzled 
hair  curled  at  his  ears.  The  absolute  simplicity 
of  his  dress,  the  straight  lines  of  his  cassock  and 
collar  band  only  added  to  his  look  of  austere 
dignity. 

"  Mere  '  falling  in  love '  often  ends  in  '  falling 
out  of  love.'  Love  in  the  fuller  sense,  what  the 
Greeks  called  charity,  is  necessary  in  every 
relation  of  life." 

Maud  made  no  reply.  Her  eyelids  quivered 
a  little. 

"  Love  in  the  sense  of  charity — is  the  only 
solution  to  the  problem  of  life :  we  have  tried 
easier  methods  and  they  have  failed.  By  love 
I  don't  mean  sentiment  or  admiration  for  what 
is  charming — I  mean  something  that  is  '  stronger 
than  death/  A  man  who  has  the  leisure  to 
sit  by  his  fireside  surrounded  by  pictures  and 
books  and  selected  companions  will  often,  after 
he  has  had  a  reasonably  good  dinner,  say,  nay 
protest,  that  '  love '  is  better  than  the  Law  and 
the  Prophets,  and  wiser  than  any  Philosophy. 
So  it  is,  but  it  is  incalculably  harder — as  he  will 
find  out  if  you  turn  that  man  out  of  his  sheltered 
library,  face  to  face  with  the  coarser  forms  of 
Humanity  and  ask  him  to  show  his  '  love '  to 
them.  Suppose  you  make  him  attend  to  some 
irritable  paralytic,  or  saddle  him  with  a  drunken 
wife,  or  make  him  responsible  for  underlings 
who  are  envious  and  suspicious  and  then  ask 


TWO  SINNERS  123 

him  whether  he  finds  '  love '  as  easy  as  he 
thought."  He  paused  for  a  moment  and  then 
said  almost  abruptly,  "  I  don't  blame  a  woman 
for  marrying  a  man  whom  she  does  not  love, 
if  she  is  strong  enough  and  tender  enough  to 
behave  to  him  as  if  she  did  love  him."  His 
mouth  relaxed  with  a  smile  that  would  at  any 
other  time  have  been  irresistible  to  Maud,  just 
now  she  could  not  smile  in  return,  she  felt  in- 
expressibly pained.  The  tears  started  to  her 
eyes,  the  corners  of  her  mouth  dropped  miser- 
ably, and  she  bent  her  head.  After  a  moment's 
silence  he  added  very  gravely  :  "  The  woman  you 
speak  of  is  marrying — for  some  reason"  and  he 
laid  a  stress  on  the  last  word. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Maud,  trying  to  control 
her  emotion.  She  raised  her  head,  and  sat  with 
drooping  eyelids  like  a  child  being  catechised. 

"  Is  the  motive  of  the  marriage  respect,"  he 
asked,  "  or  the  desire  for  a  home  ?  " 

Maud  did  not  answer. 

'  Wealth  ?  "  he  suggested. 

She  bent  her  head  slightly. 

;<  The  man  you  are  about  to  marry,"  he 
began.  He  laid  no  emphasis  on  the  "  you," 
the  word  dropped  into  its  place  without  effort. 
:<  The  man  you  are  about  to  marry  has  something 
to  offer  you  that  you  prize.  Very  well.  Is 
there  anything  you  can  give  him  in  return  for 
this  that  he  will  value  highly  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Maud. 

"  Does  he  care  about  sympathy,  affection  ?  " 

Maud   did    not   deny   it.    Everything   was 


124  TWO  SINNERS 

going  against  her.  This  man  was  making  her 
feel  that  she  was  morally  feeble,  and  she  wanted 
to  be  told  that  she  was  really  strong,  only 
unfortunate. 

"  And  you  can't  give  him  sympathy  or  affec- 
tion, is  that  it  ?  You  are  not  strong  enough 
or  tender  enough  to  behave  as  if  you  loved  him  ?  " 

Maud  shook  her  head — and  allowed  a  tear 
to  trickle  down  her  cheek  and  fall  upon  her 
muff. 

"  In  that  case  you  mustn't  marry  him." 

Maud  rose  from  her  chair. 

"  I  knew  you'd  say  that,"  she  murmured. 

He  rose  from  his  chair  too  and  stood  looking 
down  at  her : 

'  Whatever  faults  there  are  on  either  side, 
whatever  regrets  there  may  be  or  repinings,  a 
man  and  a  woman  must  at  least  start  their 
married  life  with  an  honest  recognition  that  they 
have  given  '  hostages  to  fortune.'  Do  you 
understand  ?  " 

She  understood  only  too  well.  The  interview 
was  over,  the  judgment  had  gone  against  her 
and  she  felt  that  there  could  be  no  appeal — that 
was  the  hardship  of  it. 

"  You  don't  know  how  difficult  it  will  be," 
she  said  impulsively. 

"  Life  itself  is  difficult,"  he  said.  "  It  has 
never  been  better  described  than  as  no  more 
and  no  less  than  the  brief  glance  thrown  by  a 
drowning  man  who  lifts  his  head  for  a  moment 
above  the  waves  around  him  and  stretches  out 
his  hands  towards  sights  and  sounds,  the  meaning 


TWO  SINNERS  125 

of  which  he  has  no  time  to  understand,  and  then 
sinks  and  is  gone.  Realise  the  solemnity  of 
this  and  you  will  not  go  far  wrong.  I  am  speak- 
ing to  you,"  he  added,  "  in  your  own  language, 
not  in  the  language  of  religion." 

Maud  moved  her  lips  silently  as  she  gazed  up 
at  him. 

He  looked  down  intently  at  her  and  laid  his 
hand  on  her  shoulder : 

"  In  words  that  you  and  I  can  both  under- 
stand, let  me  urge  you  to  look  on  life  as  very 
short  and  very  precious." 

"  I  will  try,"  she  said. 

Then  he  moved  away  from  her,  bidding  her 
wait  for  a  moment  while  he  fetched  his  hat  from 
the  vestry.  Surely  she  had  not  been  in  the 
church  more  than  five  or  ten  minutes,  and  in 
that  short  time  all  that  had  been  happening  for 
many,  many  weeks  was  cancelled. 

She  walked  slowly  down  the  aisle  toward  the 
door.  She  could  hear  voices  from  the  vestry, 
his  voice  and  the  voice  of  the  sacristan,  she  could 
not  hear  what  they  said. 

At  the  door  she  waited  and  turned  back. 
He  was  coming  towards  her.  She  pushed  open 
the  door  and  stood  outside.  The  afternoon  was 
already  getting  dark  and  the  wind  was,  if 
possible,  colder  than  it  had  been  before.  Maud 
shivered  and  drew  her  furs  more  closely  round 
her. 

"  We  can  get  a  taxi  in  the  next  street,"  he 
said.  As  they  walked  along  together  it  seemed 
to  Maud  as  if  neither  time  nor  circumstance 


126  TWO  SINNERS 

had  had  anything  to  do  with  the  relationship 
with  this  man.  He  had  always  intended  to 
answer  her  question,  and  she  had  always  in- 
tended to  ask  it.  A  few  paces  brought  them  to 
a  street  which  her  companion  turned  down.  It 
led  to  a  big  thoroughfare  and  Maud  could  see 
in  the  gathering  twilight  at  the  corner  a  row  of 
taxi-cabs.  She  could  see  a  motor- omnibus 
passing  crowded  with  city  men,  she  could  see 
the  traffic  and  rush  of  London,  she  could  hear 
the  noise  loud  and  fitful. 

Before  she  could  collect  her  thoughts,  before 
she  could  clearly  see  her  position,  before  she  had 
time  to  realise  what  lay  before  her,  she  would 
be  speeding  away  in  one  of  the  taxis,  carrying 
her  marching  orders  with  her,  orders  given  her 
by  a  stranger,  some  one  who  had  sprung  from 
nowhere  but  whom  she  recognised  at  once  as, 
of  necessity,  the  arbiter  of  her  fate. 

How  she  rebelled  against  the  consequences 
of  his  judgment,  rebelled  and  yet  saw  no  escape 
from  them !  Besides,  she  had  said,  "  I  will 
try."  He  hailed  a  taxi,  and  Maud  saw  it  shunt 
and  then  slide  towards  them  lessening  the  short 
distance  with  an  almost  malignant  rapidity. 

How  would  she  be  able  to  go  through  with 
all  that  lay  before  her  when  she  was  alone,  weak 
and  unsupported  by  the  force  of  this  man's 
presence  1  He  helped  her  into  the  taxi  and 
shut  the  door  upon  her. 

"  What  address  ?  "  he  asked. 

Maud  gave  it,  and  she  could  hear  him  repeat 
it  to  the  chauffeur. 


TWO  SINNEES  127 

Then  she  leaned  her  head  at  the  window  in  a 
sudden  haste. 

"  I  don't  even  know  your  name,"  she  called, 
for  she  felt  like  a  child  who  has  just  discovered 
that  he  has  lost  sight  of  his  home  and  that  he  is 
lost. 

e  Wait  a  minute,"  he  said  to  the  driver,  and 
feeling  in  his  pockets  he  produced  a  leathern 
card  case.  He  took  out  a  card  and  handed  it 
in  at  the  window  to  Maud. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said  and  stood  back  on  the 
pavement. 

Maud  sat  leaning  forward,  the  card  in  her 
hand.  She  gazed  out  at  the  tall  cloaked  figure. 
What  was  his  life  like  ?  What  was  the  secret 
of  it  ?  What  suffering  had  been  his,  what 
joys  ?  She  would  never  see  him  again.  He 
had  come  across  her  for  a  moment  and  had 
gone,  and  yet  the  whole  future  direction  of  her 
life  had  been  decided  by  his  judgment ;  the  order 
of  his  life,  of  which  she  knew  nothing,  ruled 
hers. 

He  was  out  of  sight  and  she  sank  back  upon 
the  cushions  disconsolate. 

The  card !  It  was  in  her  hand.  She  sat 
up,  peered  over  it,  reading  it  by  the  dim  lamp- 
light. There  was  the  name  and  address.  How 
strange !  It  seemed  as  if  she  heard  a  familiar 
echo  of  Ursula's  voice  from  the  distance. 

He  was  Father  Fitzherbert  of  the  Com- 
munity of  St.  Paul. 

And  all  the  time  he  had  never  so  much  as 
pronounced  the  word  "  God." 


LADY  DOROTHY  was  very  much  excited  by  the 
events  of  the  afternoon,  that  is  to  say,  her  talk 
with  George  Broughton.  She  was  a  little  in- 
dignant that  Maud  had  not  stayed  at  home  to 
meet  George.  Maud  ought  not  to  have  gone  out 
— on  such  an  occasion,  and  if  she  had  gone  out, 
she  ought  not  to  have  walked  so  far  that  she  was 
obliged  to  rest  for  half  an  hour  in  a  church 
before  driving  home. 

"  It's  too  late  for  tea — and  I  don't  want 
any,"  said  Maud. 

"  You  shouldn't  wander  about  like  a  lost 
lamb,"  said  Lady  Dorothy.  "  It  isn't  a  proper 
or  a  pleasant  thing  to  do — and,  of  course,  you 
are  too  tired  to  want  any  tea  now  ;  but  do  listen 
while  I  tell  you.  They  are  to  be  married  in 
July ! " 

Lady  Dorothy  stared  hard  at  her  niece,  but 
failed  to  attract  her  eyes.  "  Now,  Maud,  why 
can't  you  and  Lionel  fix  on  a  date  for  your- 
selves ?  What  do  you  say  to  being  married 
on  the  same  day  as  George  and  Stella  ?  " 

Lady  Dorothy  looked  still  harder  at  her 
niece  across  the  bridge  of  her  nose,  a  habit  she 
had  when  she  was  thinking  of  "  ways  and 
means." 

Maud  had  gone  to  the  fire  and  was  gazing 


TWO  SINNERS  129 

down  at  the  point  of  her  toe  as  she  placed  it  on 
the  fender. 

Life  did  seem  very  short  and  very  precious — 
for  the  moment — when  Fitzherbert  was  walking 
beside  her,  but  now  in  the  commonplace  London 
drawing-room,  with  Aunt  Dorothy  talking  to  her, 
her  own  personal  hopes  and  fears  came  crowding 
back  upon  her  with  sudden  intensity,  and  life 
seemed  very  long — and  full  of  sordid  necessities. 
'  What  do  you  think  ?  "  demanded  her 
Aunt  Dorothy.  "  Isn't  it  a  good  idea  ?  " 

"  Please  don't  even  suggest  such  a  thing," 
said  Maud,  in  a  tone  of  cold  surprise. 

"  But  we  must  consider  expense,"  said  Lady 
Dorothy.  "  Sentiment  is  all  very  well,  Maud, 
but  both  you  and  Stella  must  be  married  from 
here  ;  and  you  know — well,  my  dear,  you  must 
know — that  since  your  uncle's  death  I  have  had 
to  get  along  as  best  I  could." 

"I  know,  I  know,"  said  Maud.  "All  I 
mean,  dear  Aunt  Dorothy,  is  that  Stella's  wedding 
should  be  considered  first — there  is  no  hurry 
about  mine ! " 

"  It  ought  to  be  the  other  way  about — a  hurry 
for  you — and  no  hurry  for  Stella." 

"  I  haven't  thought  of  the  day  yet,"  said 
Maud  gloomily,  "  not  even  of  the  month — or  " 
she  added  in  a  low  voice,  "  the  year.  Anyhow, 
my  wedding  will  cost  nothing.  Major  Kames 
has  no  relatives — that  I  have  ever  heard  of — 
and  as  to  mine — no  one  matters  but  you,  Aunt 
Dorothy.  An  absolutely  quiet  wedding  is  all 
I  could  possibly  tolerate." 


130  TWO  SINNERS 

"  I  wish  you  were  not  so  eccentric,  Maud," 
said  Lady  Dorothy  ;  "  you  must  consult  Lionel's 
wishes  in  the  matter.  A  perfectly  quiet  wedding 
is  all  right  when  people  are  in  mourning,  but  it 
is  not  a  good  beginning  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances— it  is  unsociable  and  very  unsuitable 
when  you  are  marrying  a  wealthy  man.  I  don't 
know  how  I  can  afford  two  separate  weddings 
this  summer.  I've  been  going  through  the 
matter  roughly — very  roughly — just  now,  merely 
to  get  an  estimate  of  what  it  will  cost — Ursula 

can't  help You  see  there  is  a  trousseau  for 

each  of  you." 

"  Stella  is  sure  to  want  an  orthodox  wedding, 
Aunt  Dorothy — so  that  as  things  stand  now," 
said  Maud  coldly,  "  I  have  two  alternatives 
before  me — either  to  be  married  quietly,  or  not 
to  be  married  at  all.  I'm  not  sure  that  it 
wouldn't  be  better  to  put  off  my  wedding — 
indefinitely !  What  do  you  think  ?  " 

This  was  not  what  Lady  Dorothy  meant. 
She  gasped :  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she 
demanded. 

"  Nothing  in  the  world  would  induce  me  to 
go  halves  in  Stella's  wedding,"  said  Maud. 
"  An  ordinary  single  wedding  seems  to  me  absurd 
enough,  but  a  double  one—dear  Aunt  Dorothy, 
do  talk  of  something  else." 

"  How  can  I  talk  of  something  else  ?  Here 
you  and  Stella  get  engaged  within  a  fortnight 
of  each  other — and  are  going  to  be  married — 
and  you  expect  me  not  to  talk  about  it.  You 
are  not  reasonable :  we  must  talk  it  over  with 


TWO  SINNERS  131 

Lionel,  who,  I  am  quite  sure  will  be  willing  to 
discuss  the  most  important  step  in  his  life — even 
if  you  won't  — in  fact,"  she  added,  "  he  may  have 
decided  views." 

"  He  will  have  to  choose  between  a  quiet 
wedding  or  no  wedding.  He  may  prefer  the 
latter,"  said  Maud. 

"  Your  walk  hasn't  done  you  any  good," 
said  Lady  Dorothy.  "  Wandering  alone  about  the 
London  streets  is  not  healthy  or  nice  for  a  girl." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Maud.  "  Perhaps  when 
I  have  warmed  my  feet  my  brains  will  work 
better — until  they  are  warm  I  can't  help  thinking 
that  it  is  pleasant  to  know  that  when  I  die  I 
shan't  have  to  arrange  my  own  funeral." 

"  Many  people  do  arrange  their  own  funeral 
beforehand,"  said  Lady  Dorothy,  "  and  enjoy 
doing  it,  though  not  people  of  your  age." 

"  Then  I  am  glad  to  think  that  nobody  can 
arrange  what  they  are  going  to  do  in  the  next 
world,  Aunt  Dorothy,"  said  Maud,  hitching 
up  the  skirt  of  her  dress  slightly  and  smoothing 
it  out  over  her  knees. 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Lady  Dorothy.  "  A 
divine  Providence  has  arranged  that — or  will 
arrange  it — but  I  am  not  asking  you  to  discuss 
the  next  world  with  me." 

"  That's  quite  true — you  have  me  there," 
said  Maud.  "  I'm  cross  and  stupid — I  can't 
think  just  now,  Aunt  Dorothy." 

Lady  Dorothy  gave  an  inarticulate  grunt 
and  looked  her  niece  all  over.  Then  she  looked 
at  the  clock. 


132  TWO  SINNERS 

"  Dinner  in  an  hour's  time,"  she  said.  "  I 
asked  Lionel  to  be  here  at  half -past  seven."  As 
she  spoke  she  rose  from  her  chair,  and  stooping 
down  gathered  Kiddie  in  her  arms.  "I'm 
going,"  she  said,  adding — "  and  so  the  darling, 
Kidikins,  the  poor  ickle  Kidikins,  has  got  to 
spend  his  evening  all  alone-y-one.  Oh,  the 
wicked  people,  oh,  the  heartless  people  to  leave 
the  angel  angel  all  alone-y-one." 

If  Lady  Dorothy  had  had  the  dispensing 
of  the  lives  of  her  nieces,  she  would  have  ordered 
a  miracle  and  got  Ursula  married  to  some 
respectable  parson,  and  she  would  have  disposed 
of  Stella,  either  to  George  or  some  one  else. 
Maud  she  would  have  retained  in  her  own  service. 
Although  she  found  Maud  at  times  a  little 
exasperating,  Maud  was  her  favourite.  Maud's 
engagement  might  not  have  been  so  pleasing 
to  her,  had  it  been  to  any  one  less  fascinating  than 
Major  Kames.  Major  Kames  was  just  the 
nephew-in-law  that  Lady  Dorothy  would  have 
chosen  to  have — had  her  imagination  been  vivid 
enough  to  anticipate  his  personality. 

Lady  Dorothy  felt  as  if  her  entourage  had 
suddenly  been  enriched,  life  was  more  amusing 
now  that  Lionel  Kames  visited  No.  2,  Brown 
Street.  Lady  Dorothy  went  through  the  process 
of  dressing  with  an  interest  in  it  that  she  had  not 
felt  for  years.  The  only  drawback  to  the  even- 
ing's enjoyment  was  the  necessity  of  leaving 
Kiddie  at  home.  She  was  sure  that  in  course 
of  time  Kiddie  would  learn  to  appreciate  Lionel 
and  love  him,  and  the  few  gathering  clouds  that 


TWO  SINNERS  133 

darkened  her  darling's  life  would  be  dispersed 
in  the  near  future  when  he  would  become  a 
welcome  guest  along  with  his  mistress  at 
Orpenden.  Orpenden  would  be  a  charming 
change  of  air  for  Kiddie.  How  keenly  he 
would  enjoy  the  grounds !  What  a  delightful 
man  Lionel  was — and  so  considerate  !  There  he 
was  already  in  the  drawing-room  when  Lady 
Dorothy  came  down.  He  was  not  merely 
punctual  to  the  moment,  he  was  in  front  of  the 
clock,  and  had  arrived  five  minutes  before  the 
time.  He  was  there,  large,  prosperous,  and  genial. 
"  Maud  is  late,"  said  Lady  Dorothy,  as  she 
looked  with  attentive  scrutiny  at  her  future 
nephew-in-law.  Everything  about  him  pleased 
her  ;  she  felt  warmed,  secure  and  stimulated  by 
his  presence ;  the  misgiving  that  sometimes 
crept  into  her  heart  in  spite  of  Kiddie,  in  spite 
of  her  self-assertion,  the  misgiving  that  she  was 
after  all — just  an  old,  lonely  woman,  had  no 
place  even  at  the  back  of  her  thoughts  when 
she  was  talking  to  Lionel  Kames.  Somehow, 
mysteriously,  he  shed  a  rose  colour  over  herself 
and  her  drawing-room.  Lady  Dorothy  did  not 
notice  any  lack  of  spirituality  in  him.  She  did 
not  look  for  "  spirituality."  Her  brother  General 
Monckton  had  called  himself  an  "  agnostic," 
Lady  Dorothy  called  herself  a  "  Christian,"  and 
neither  position  had  any  relation  to  "  spiritu- 
ality." Lady  Dorothy  directed  her  coachman 
to  drive  to  church  in  exactly  the  same  spirit 
as  she  would  have  directed  him  to  Bond  Street 
for  shops  or  to  Buxton  for  baths. 


134  TWO  SINNERS 

"  Lionel,"  she  said,  "  another  family  event ! 
My  nephew  George,  whom  you  saw  yesterday, 
is  just  engaged  to  Stella.  There,  isn't  that  a 
piece  of  news  ?  " 

Kames's  face  looked  down  at  her  attentively. 
!<  Lucky  beggar,"  he  said,  after  a  brief  pause — 
and  his  face  looked  enigmatic. 

"  So's  she,"  said  Lady  Dorothy. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Kames,  "  so's  she  !  "  His 
face  still  looked  enigmatic. 

:t  There's  no  doubt  that  Stella  is  a  very  fine 
girl,"  said  Lady  Dorothy,  "  though  very  different 
to  Maud." 

'  You  cannot  compare  them,"  said  Kames, 
still  occupied  with  his  own  thoughts. 

"  No,  you  can't  compare  them — they  are 
both  splendid  girls.  And — "  added  Lady 
Dorothy,  in  a  perfunctory  voice,  the  voice  of 
one  who  is  saying  what  is  proper  about  the 
family,  "  and  Ursula  is,  as  everybody  knows,  a 
saint." 

Kames  raised  his  head  a  little. 

"  It  'd  be  a  dull  world  without  saints,"  he 
said,  and  laughed. 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  so  1 "  said  Lady 
Dorothy,  a  little  sharply,  for  she  was  thinking 
of  Ursula. 

"  I  do,"  said  Kames.  "  They're  so  surprisin'. 
Sinners  you  can  haul  in  by  the  dozen  with  a 
penny  hook  and  a  bit  of  coloured  thread,  but 
saints,  there's  no  knowing  how  to  catch  'em,  or 
how  to  keep  'em  when  they  are  caught." 

"  I  don't  want  to  catch  them,"  said  Lady 


TWO  SINNERS  135 

Dorothy.  Kames  stared  down  at  her  narrowly 
and  the  corners  of  his  mouth  relaxed  into  a 
slow  smile.  She  was  half  nettled,  half  fascinated 
by  his  look.  He  was  perhaps  just  a  little — well, 
not  quite  right  from  the  point  of  view  of  his 
antecedents,  but  apart  from  that  he  was  charm- 
ing, he  had  a  personality  that  pleased  her  and 
made  her  forget  she  was  old.  She  almost  jumped 
when  the  drawing-room  door  opened  and  Maud 
came  in. 

"  Maud !  "  she  called,  "  you  are  five  whole 
minutes  late ;  it's  unpardonable.  I  only  forgive 
you  because  I  have  been  telling  Lionel  about 
Stella's  engagement." 

Maud's  face,  which  was  pale  when  she  entered, 
flushed.  "  I  am  very  sorry,  Aunt  Dorothy,"  she 
said,  and  then  she  held  out  her  hand  to  Kames 
and  smiled,  but  she  did  not  look  at  him. 

"  I  should  hope  you  are  sorry,"  said  Lady 
Dorothy.  "  Lionel,  give  me  your  arm." 

"  I  am  your  obedient  servant,"  said  Kames. 
He  had  dropped  Maud's  hand,  but  his  eyes 
were  still  on  her  when  he  offered  his  arm  to  Lady 
Dorothy. 

"Maud  isn't  generally  guilty  of  bad  manners," 
Lady  Dorothy  explained. 

;f  I'm  sure  of  it,"  said  Kames. 

:t  Though  young  people  nowadays  usually 
have  no  manners." 

"  Bad  form,"  said  Kames ;  "  isn't  what  it 
used  to  be.  It  used  to  be  anything  inelegant, 
now  it's  t'other  way  round." 

"  '  Change  and  decay  in  all  around  I  see/  " 


136  TWO  SINNERS 

quoted  Lady  Dorothy.    "  So  I  suppose  we  must 
endure  it." 

Lady  Dorothy  had  arranged  that  Kiddie 
should  be  brought  into  the  dining-room  after 
they  were  seated  at  table.  She  hoped  that  if 
he  was  brought  in  swiftly  and  deposited  on  his 
own  mat  in  front  of  his  own  dinner,  he  might 
forgive  or  overlook  the  presence  of  Major 
Kames.  Then,  after  the  warmth  of  food  had 
permeated  his  being  he  would  insensibly  become 
accustomed  to  the  intrusion  and  resent  it  less. 

This  optimistic  view  did  not  prove  to  be 
a  correct  one.  Although  Kiddie  was  brought 
swiftly  in  and  put  down  by  the  plate  of  food 
by  the  fire,  he  perceived  instantly  that  there 
was  an  obnoxious  and  unaccustomed  presence 
at  the  sacred  and  exclusive  table  of  his  mistress. 
He  glanced  at  Major  Kames  out  of  the  corners 
of  his  eyes  and  fell  into  a  paroxysm  of  rage, 
standing  stiffly  before  his  still  more  sacred  and 
exclusive  plate.  He  glared  haughtily  at  the 
minced  chicken  and  early  spinach,  and  dared 
Major  Kames  to  come  and  touch  it ;  he  dared 
Major  Kames  to  remain  seated,  dared  Major 
Kames  to  speak,  he  dared  him  even  to  breathe. 

"  Conversation  is  impossible,"  said  Maud, 
glancing  everywhere  but  at  Kames.  What  sort 
of  language  was  he  using  under  his  breath  ? 
She  had  a  faint  conception  of  it. 

Suddenly  Kiddie  relaxed  his  limbs,  became 
silent  and  fell  upon  his  food. 

:t  The  darling  !  "  murmured  Lady  Dorothy. 
"  Isn't  he  wonderful  with  Lionel,  Maud  ?  You 


TWO  SINNERS  137 

will  be  the  best  of  friends  in  no  time,  and  once 
a  friend  always  a  friend — with  Kiddie.  Don't 
you  think  fidelity  is  the  greatest  of  all  virtues  ? 
You  know  the  Monckton  motto — '  Faithful  to 
the  death.'  Whatever  vices  we  may  have,  we 
are  true  to  our  word.  It's  Kiddie's  motto  too." 
Maud  still  avoided  the  brown  watchful  eyes 
of  the  man  who  sat  opposite  her. 

Fitzherbert's  words,  "If  you  are  strong  enough 
and  tender  enough,"  wounded  her  to  the  very 
soul.  For  Maud  knew  she  could  be  neither 
strong  nor  tender ;  if,  ah,  if  Lionel  had  been  a 
man  like  Fitzherbert  or  like  George  Brought  on, 
she  could — she  thought  she  could — have  been 
both  tender  and  strong. 

If  she  had  felt  distress  at  the  contrast  between 
George  Brought  on  and  Lionel,  she  felt  still  more 
distress  at  the  contrast  between  Lionel  and 
Fitzherbert. 

Once  during  that  dinner  she  shot  a  swift 
look  at  the  man  to  whom  she — a  Monckton — 
had  pledged  her  word.  Could  she  by  a  super- 
human effort  pretend  to  love  him  ?  Would  it 
be  possible  ?  Kames,  still  watchful,  caught  that 
look  and  tried  by  sheer  force  of  will  to  retain 
it.  She  wrenched  herself  away  and  sat  confused 
and  miserable. 

All  that  evening  passed  like  an  uneasy  dream. 
The  theatre  with  its  thronged  galleries,  its  hot 
and  oppressive  atmosphere,  the  crowded  faces ; 
Lady  Dorothy,  talkative  and  amused ;  the  play 
itself  strangely  meaningless  and  unnecessary, 
the  characters  shadows  with  human  shape. 


138  TWO  SINNERS 

Nothing  was  to  Maud  distinct  and  real  but 
the  silent  struggle  between  Lionel  and  herself. 
It  had  come  to  that — he  knew  it  and  was  gather- 
ing up  his  forces  for  the  attack.  A  man  came 
into  the  box  and  began  talking.  It  was  that 
youthful "  cheeper  "  of  music-hall  phrases,  whom 
Stella  called  "  Jumper."  Maud  could  see  that 
he  was  attracted  by  Kames.  Kames  stood 
conspicuous,  a  notable  figure.  He  looked  like 
a  man  who  controlled  the  circumstances  of  life, 
he  suggested  "  money,"  and  young  Broughton 
was  impressed.  Maud  could  hear  the  youth 
criticising  the  drama.  Maud  could  hear  Lionel's 
voice. 

'  What  do  you  mean  by  realism  ?  "  she  heard 
him  demand. 

The  youth's  reply  was  that  he  meant  what 
everybody  else  meant. 

"  Everybody  don't  mean  the  same,"  said 
Kames's  voice  rapidly ;  in  his  tone  there  was  a 
suppressed  irritation  that  was  new  to  Maud. 

'  Who  are  you  trying  to  identify  ?  "  asked 
Lady  Dorothy,  bending  her  high  bridged  nose 
nearer  to  Maud. 

"  I'm  only  looking  at  the  confusion,"  said 
Maud,  for  her  ears  were  straining  to  catch  the 
voices  behind  her  that  had  withdrawn  them- 
selves a  little. 

"  A  great  man,"  she  heard  Kames  say  in  a 
lowered  voice  to  escape  the  ears  of  Lady  Dorothy, 
"  a  great  man  may  mean  by  realism  what  he 
sees,  or  thinks  he  sees,  in  the  gutter  or  in  the 
church  or  on  the  hill-top  but "  and  here 


TWO  SINNERS  139 

Maud  only  just  caught  the  last  words,  "  but 
knowing  human  nature  as  I  do,  when  I  hear  a 
lousy-looking  brute,  who  smells  of  the  paint 
box  or  of  the  lamp,  slobbering  praise  of  realism, 
I  know,  even  though  he  don't  know  himself,  that 
what  he  means  is  :  real  uninterrupted  dirt ;  the 
cant  name  for  it  is :  *  Art  for  Art's  sake.' ' 

Maud  shuddered  and  found  herself  repeating 
almost  as  one  repeats  the  words  of  some  old 
prayer  barely  remembered,  "  I  want  you  to 
think  of  life  as  very  short  and  very  precious." 
Oh,  what  did  it  all  mean,  this  conflict,  this 
struggle,  this  grasping  at  things  that  are  here, 
there  and  are  gone,  this  sounding  swift  tumul- 
tuous coming  and  going  of  human  life  ? 

The  play  was  all  over,  the  curtain  was  being 
lowered  for  the  last  time  and  the  audience  were 
pressing  to  the  doors.  Maud  found  herself  out 
in  the  fresh  air  among  a  pushing  crowd ;  then 
came  the  swift  gliding  along  midnight  streets 
and  they  were  home  again.  Now,  what  was 
going  to  happen  ?  Most  mercifully,  most 
amazingly  Kames  refused  to  come  in.  He  stood 
just  inside  the  hall,  hat  in  hand,  saying  Good 
night. 

"  So  you  really  won't,  really  positively,"  said 
Lady  Dorothy,  trying  to  conceal  her  relief ,  for 
was  not  her  own  Kiddie  waiting  for  her  upstairs  ? 
She  could  hear  the  distant  sound  of  his  darling 
screams,  and  dear,  dear  Lionel  might  excite 
the  angel  too,  too  much  for  his  little  nerv-y- 
nerves. 

Maud  had  slipped  past  her  Aunt  Dorothy 


140  TWO  SINNERS 

and  stood,  looking  white  and  guilty,  out  of 
Lionel's  reach.  She  had  not  yet  said  Good 
night. 

"  Maud !  "  said  Lady  Dorothy.  "  He  abso- 
lutely refuses  to  come  in,"  and  she  moved 
towards  the  staircase.  Kames  was  still  standing 
at  the  door. 

"  Maud,"  he  said,  bluntly.  "  Wait !  I  want 
to  ask  you  a  question." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  called  out  Lady 
Dorothy  clutching  at  her  cloak  and  impedi- 
menta and  beginning  to  mount  the  stairs. 
"  Good-bye,  Lionel,  such  a  delightful  evening, 
indeed,  most  delightful,"  she  called  back,  as  she 
ran  nimbly  up,  nimbly  for  her  age,  but  then  she 
was  stimulated  to  extra  exertion  by  the  thought 
that  the  "  young  couple  "  wanted  her  out  of  the 
way. 

Jackson  had  disappeared  and  Maud  stood 
there,  her  face  getting  more  and  more  strained. 

What  was  the  question  Lionel  was  going  to 
ask  her  ?  Was  it  the  date  of  their  marriage  ? 
If  so  she  would  be  forced  to  speak  out. 

"  Don't  look  so  startled,"  said  Kames. 

"  Do  I  look  startled  ?  "  said  Maud. 

'  You  know  that  you  look  startled  and  are 
startled,"  he  said.  Standing  there  in  the  full 
glare  of  the  light  he  looked  as  if  he  was  about  to 
add  some  abrupt  exclamation,  but  he  suppressed 
himself  and  said  after  a  moment's  pause — 

"  I've  promised  Lady  Dorothy  to  come  to  her 
At  Home  to-morrow  and  sing — do  you  wish  me 
to  come  ?  " 


TWO  SINNERS  141 

"  I  thought  you  said  you'd  promised,"  said 
Maud,  trembling  a  little. 

'( I  have  promised  !  " 

There  was  a  long  pause  which  became  in- 
tolerable to  Maud. 

'  You  will  find  it  appallingly  dull,"  she  said. 
"  Old  pals  of  Aunt  Dorothy,  people  who  endure 
Kiddie.  You  will  suffer  a  martyrdom." 

But  she  saw  that  the  party  was  not  what  he 
was  thinking  of,  he  scarcely  followed  the  words 
she  was  saying.  He  made  a  step  towards  her 
and  moved  his  lips. 

"  I  want  to  apologise,"  he  said,  "  for  a  remark 
that  I  made  to  you  yesterday — outside  the 
drawing-room — a  remark  about  Broughton.  Will 
you  try  and  forgive  me  ?  " 

Forgive  him,  when  all  the  time  she  was 
needing  forgiveness  herself — for  her  weakness 
and  her  lack  of  honour  towards  a  man  who  after 
all  had  done  her  no  injury.  Even  if  he  was 
inferior  to  George  Broughton,  to  Fitzherbert, 
she  had  no  right  to  treat  him  with  duplicity. 

"  It  is  I  who  need  forgiveness,"  said  Maud, 
without  moving.  He  glanced  at  her  swiftly 
and  searchingly. 

'  That  may  or  may  not  be,  but  it  is  easier  for 
me  to  forgive  you.  In  this  short  time  I  have 
learned  to  forgive  you  even  for  giving  me  great 
pain.  I  cannot  conceive  myself  refusing  you 

forgiveness  for  anything  except ,"  here  he 

paused  as  if  unable  to  pronounce  the  words. 

Maud  knew  what  he  meant  except — failure 
to  keep  her  promise  ! 


142  TWO  SINNERS 

In  proportion  as  his  passion  had  grown,  his 
pride  had  fallen.  It  had  come  to  this,  that  her 
lack  of  sympathy,  her  unflattering  criticism  of 
him,  counted  to  him  as  nothing.  That  was 
folly.  In  that  case  did  he  really  deserve  so  much 
consideration  from  her  ? 

This  thought  plunged  her  into  a  revulsion  of 
self-pity.  Had  he  not  given  her  a  sort  of  right 
to  keep  him  and  yet  to  be  unkind  to  him  if  she 
liked  ?  Oh,  no,  no,  that  was  a  dishonourable 
thought.  And  yet 

'  You  could  forgive  anything,"  she  said,  not 
daring  to  meet  his  eyes  but  speaking  low  and 
looking  on  the  floor,  for  she  was  ignoring  his 
real  meaning.  '  You  could  forgive  anything 
except — finding  me  religious  or  mystical — that 
would  be  to  you — unforgivably  absurd  and 
repellant «  " 

"  By  God  !  "  he  burst  out.  "  It  would  not. 
I  make  no  pretence  to  religion  myself — I  wouldn't 
lie  to  you  on  such  a  matter,  but  you  are  free  to 
think  what  you  like." 

'  Thanks,"  said  Maud. 

"  I  love  you  so  much,"  said  Kames,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  that  it  seems  to  me — standing  here 
and  looking  at  you  as  I  do  now — that  there  are 
no  thoughts  of  yours  that  could  be  repulsive  to 
me — no  thoughts,  true  or  false,  that  I  could  not 
tolerate,  or  even  express  myself  at  your  com- 
mand ! " 

He  was  making  it  more  and  more  difficult 
for  her  to  retrace  her  steps.  Underneath  this 
seeming  humility  lurked  the  tyranny  of  a  despot. 


TWO  SINNERS  143 

His  love  was  like  a  serpent.    He  meant  to  wind 
himself  round  her  soul  till  he  suffocated  it. 

'  Why  do  you  think  you  can  change  your 
nature  ?  "  she  asked,  with  raised  eyebrows  of 
incredulity. 

"  You  don't  know  all  that  my  nature  is,"  he 
said,  "  nor  do  you  fully  know  yours.  There 
are  moments  when  I  am  tempted  to  think  that 
did  we  really  know  ourselves  we  should  die  with 
laughing — or  go  mad." 

Maud's  cheeks  from  turning  pale  turned  red 
and  her  pulses  beat.  There  was  something  in 
this  man  that  frightened  her,  repelled  her, 
attracted  her.  She  said  to  herself  over  and  over 
again  that  his  personality  was  too  strong  for 
her,  that  face  to  face  with  him  she  was  not  her 
true  self — and  this  half  truth,  half  falsehood, 
she  iterated  to  herself  fiercely  as  a  verbal  justifi- 
cation of  her  weakness. 

"  Don't  keep  me,  let  me  go  please,"  she  said, 
pulling  her  hand  from  his.  "  Forgive  me,  good 
night,"  and  she  ran  away  from  him  to  the  stairs. 
She  ran  up  them  not  daring  to  look  back.  He 
did  not  call  her,  the  hall  was  silent  behind  her. 

How  much  longer  was  she  to  go  on  torturing 
herself,  and  him  ? 

She  heard  the  hall-door  close  as  she  reached 
the  landing.  She  stood,  her  hand  on  her  beating 
heart,  listening.  She  thought  she  could  hear 
him  call  out  something  to  his  chauffeur  and  then 
the  car  whizzed  away  down  the  wet,  slushy 
street.  Mysticism !  the  spiritual  life !  What 
right  had  she  to  speak  of  them,  mere  words  that 


144  TWO  SINNERS 

a  parrot  could  repeat  if  it  had  heard  Father 
Fitzherbert  use  them  ? 

Mysticism !  Why,  the  curse  of  her  whole 
life  was  that  the  world  we  see  and  touch  and  the 
love  of  that  world  was  her  dominant  passion. 

"  Here's  a  letter  for  you,"  said  Lady  Dorothy, 
who  was  sipping  a  cup  of  cocoa  with  Kiddie  on 
her  knees. 

Maud  took  it  and  opened  it.  It  was  from 
Ursula.  It  was  all  about  Stella's  engagement,  a 
letter  full  of  sympathy  and  sisterly  affection. 
House-hunting  was,  of  course,  at  an  end  and  the 
Brighton  lodgings  were  taken  on  till  the  end  of 
July.  Ursula  said  nothing  about  what  would 
happen  to  herself  after  that ! 

Maud  looked  up  from  the  letter  and  sat 
thinking.  Would  Aunt  Dorothy  be  inconsolable 
when  the  time  came  to  tell  her  that  Lionel  must 
cease  to  come  to  No.  2,  Brown  Street — that  the 
engagement  was  broken  off — would  she  be 
inconsolable,  or  would  she  be  much  annoyed, 
or  would  she  be  a  little  contemptuous  ? 

"  Anyhow,  Ursula  will  be  happy — at  last !  " 
said  Maud,  bitterly  to  herself.  "  Poor,  poor 
Ursula ! " 

"  My  plan "   called  out  Lady  Dorothy, 

"  my  plan  to-morrow  is  to  send  out  Kiddie  for  a 
walk  in  the  morning  and  then  he  will  not  mind 
so  much  being  imprisoned  all  the  afternoon 
in  my  room.  I  wish  I  could  have  him  in  the 
drawing-room,  but  I  think  it  would  scarcely 
do — it  will  be  Lionel's  first  Sunday  afternoon  in 
this  house  and  he's  going  to  sing  for  me.  People 


TWO  SINNEUS  145 

who  perform,  however  charming  they  are,  seem 
so  extraordinarily  sensitive  about  any  other 
noise  going  on  at  the  same  time  in  the  room — 
and  I  would  not  for  the  world  annoy  that  good- 
natured  man.  Another  Sunday,  and  Kiddie  and 
he  will  be  firm  friends  and  then — we  shall  see — 
what  we  shall  see  !  " 

Kiddie  gazed  out  into  the  room  from  his 
mistress's  lap  and  appeared  to  listen  and  under- 
stand though  he  made  no  response. 

"  I  have  never  come  across  any  one  more 
obliging  than  Lionel  Kames,"  continued  Lady 
Dorothy.  "  He  will  make  an  ideal  husband 
and  he  admires  you  so  much  that  he  will  allow 
himself  to  be  ruled  by  you,  lucky  girl !  " 

Maud  looked  away  from  her  aunt  towards 
the  fire. 

"  A  man  is  only  ruled  by  his  wife  if  she  is 
selfish,  or  silly,  or  a  little  coarse  ;  then  he  allows 
her  to  tread  upon  him  and  is  faithful.  Women 
are  just  the  same.  If  a  woman  marries  a  really 
good  man,  she  is  fretful  and  discontented,  full 
of  extremes  and  silly  ambitions  of  her  own — 
if  he's  a  brute  she  spends  her  life  looking  after 
him,  considering  him,  loving  him,  praying  for 
him!" 

"  Maud  !  "  said  Lady  Dorothy,  "  you  haven't 
yet  got  over  your  quite  unnecessary  and  very 
strange  walk  this  afternoon." 

'I  can't  help  what  I  see  around  me,  Aunt 
Dorothy,"  said  Maud.  "  I  didn't  invent  human 
nature,  I  only  observe  it." 

"  Then  you  observe  it  wrongly,  my  dear," 

L 


146  TWO  SINNERS 

said  Lady  Dorothy.  "  Now  I've  got  something 
to  tell  you  that  will  cheer  you  up — Lionel  is 
giving  a  dinner  the  week  after  next  at  Orpenden, 
for  us  to  meet  some  of  his  friends  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. He  has  asked  me  to  act  as  hostess, 
and  to-morrow  he  will  consult  you  and  me  as  to 
the  day  that  will  suit  us  best.  I  shall  wear  the 
Monckton  collarette,  the  only  bit  of  respectability 
we  have  left  to  us.  I  must  get  it  out  of  the 
bank." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

ALL  that  restless  night  Maud  dreamed  of  the 
dimly  lit  chapel  in  which  she  had  met  and  had 
talked  with  Fitzherbert.  Now  in  her  dreams 
their  conversation  was  constantly  interrupted 
by  unaccountable  intrusions  of  her  Aunt  Dorothy, 
who  came  into  that  sacred  place  with  Kiddie  on 
her  arm,  announcing  startling  news  of  Lionel 
Kames,  either  that  he  was  dead,  that  he  had 
suddenly  married,  or  that  he  himself  wished  the 
engagement  broken  off.  When  Maud  woke  to 
the  usual  Sunday  morning  in  Brown  Street, 
she  found  the  grey  daylight  waiting  for  her, 
suggesting  the  duller  and  more  sordid  side  of 
life,  the  weariness  of  poverty,  of  loneliness. 
If  it  had  seemed  hard  last  night,  when  her  nerves 
were  still  tingling  with  her  interview  with 
Fitzherbert,  to  take  the  straight  and  honourable 
course  and  break  off  the  engagement,  it  seemed 
still  harder  now — when  that  interview  lay  back 
in  the  memories  of  a  "  yesterday."  Lady 
Dorothy  was  fussing  about  Kiddie,  fussing  about 
going  to  church,  fussing  about  the  party ;  she 
put  half  a  sovereign  instead  of  sixpence  into  the 
bag  at  church,  which  did  not  contribute  to  the 
calm  of  her  mind. 

Maud  decided  to  say  nothing  until  the  party 
was  over.    After  that  she  must  speak  ! 


148  TWO  SINNERS 

Until  the  first  comers  arrived  that  afternoon 
Maud  had  not  perfectly  realised  that  this  party 
was  really  meant  by  her  Aunt  Dorothy  as  a  sort 
of  seal  on  the  engagement.  The  truth  came  upon 
her  with  unpleasant  emphasis. 

The  news  of  Maud's  approaching  marriage 
to  a  wealthy  man  brought  people  who  generally 
refused  Lady  Dorothy's  invitations,  when  excuse 
was  possible,  and  the  drawing-room  of  No.  2, 
Brown  Street,  was  crowded  as  it  had  not  been 
for  many  a  year.  Maud  found  herself  the  centre 
of  a  buzz  of  complimentary  talk,  of  questions 
regarding  her  future,  about  Orpenden,  about 
"  when  it  was  to  come  off,"  and  Lady  Dorothy 
was  moving  about  the  room  full  of  undisguised 
satisfaction,  receiving  congratulations.  Maud 
had  put  off  the  "  crisis  "  till  after  the  party,  and 
now  the  party  itself  would  make  the  crisis  seem 
not  merely  an  unfortunate  circumstance  but 
a  scandal.  Here  Maud  was  in  a  false  position, 
and  no  one  else  was  to  blame  for  her  suffering 
but  herself.  She  ought  to  have  spoken  out 
long  ago.  Now  it  was  getting  to  be  "  too  late." 
The  heat  of  the  room  soon  became  oppressive. 
Lady  Dorothy  had  the  old-fashioned  belief  that, 
although  plenty  of  fresh  air  was  theoretically 
(as  held  by  men  of  science)  necessary  for  the 
human  organism,  as  a  matter  of  fact  and  to  the 
knowledge  of  every  plain  sensible  man  (whose 
reason  has  not  been  undermined  by  learning) 
fresh  air  should  be  indulged  in  sparingly. 

All  the  windows  in  the  drawing-room  were 
shut,  but  "  more  than  enough  "  fresh  air  was 


TWO  SINNERS  149 

obtained  through  the  open  door  into  Lady 
Dorothy's  writing-room. 

Maud  dared  not  ask  to  have  a  window  opened, 
though  her  head  ached.  She  was  filled  with  a 
strange  kind  of  pleasurable  agony  of  self-con- 
tempt at  being  evidently  considered  a  "  successful 
person."  It  was  a  new  kind  of  experience ; 
it  would  not  last  long,  but  while  it  lasted  it  was 
like  drinking  a  cup  of  nectar  at  the  bottom  of 
which  lurked  a  corrosive  poison. 

People  were  actually  talking  to  her  about  the 
beauties  of  Orpenden.  Somebody  even  knew 
that  there  was  a  famous  rose-garden  at  Orpenden 
— and  she  was  drawn  deeper  and  deeper  into  a 
net  which  she  had  spread  with  her  own  hands. 
She  had  never  heard  of  Orpenden  till  she  met 
Lionel !  She  never  ought  to  have  entered  its 
gates  as  its  future  mistress.  Now,  Orpenden 
was  tied  round  her  neck.  She  was  credited  with 
it — she  could  neither  endure  life  in  it  nor 
without  it.  That  was  the  horrible  dilemma  ! 

Maud  glanced  nervously  round  her.  Had 
Lionel  arrived  yet  ?  Was  he  within  hearing  of 
all  this  about  Orpenden  ?  He  had  only  just 
entered  the  room.  There  he  was  at  the  door, 
and  his  conspicuous  figure  was  greeted  by  a  lull 
of  voices.  Then  the  clamour  became  all  the 
greater.  Maud  became  almost  fiercely  calm. 
It  was  destiny  that  had  forced  her  into  this 
engagement,  it  was  forcing  her  into  marriage ; 
had  she  not  better  drift  down  with  the  stream 
and  let  it  take  her  whither  it  would  ?  Perhaps, 
convinced  that  it  wag  her  destiny,  she  might 


150  TWO  SINNERS 

even  learn  to  pretend  to  love  him.  Was 
she  strong  enough  ?  Could  she  make  herself 
strong  enough  ?  She  would  need  to  be  very 
strong ! 

Somebody  sang  a  song  about  lovers  being 
parted  for  no  specified  reason,  the  sort  of  song 
that  Lady  Dorothy  thought  decorous  on  Sunday. 
Maud's  eyes  drifted  round  again  to  where  Kames 
was  standing.  He  had  got  as  far  as  the  centre 
of  the  room  and  was  being  introduced  to  people 
by  Lady  Dorothy  in  a  voice  laden  with  self- 
satisfaction.  Kames  watchfully  caught  her 
glance,  and  his  eyes  said  :  "  You  have  not  yet 
spoken  to  me."  He  looked  as  if  he  was  about 
to  break  away  from  Lady  Dorothy  and  Maud 
shook  her  head  slightly  at  him,  but  her  lips 
smiled. 

It  was  only  the  briefest  recognition  of  him, 
the  faintest  sign  of  sympathy,  and  she  was 
startled  to  see  the  effect  it  had  on  him.  The 
contrast  between  Lionel  on  that  first  afternoon 
of  their  engagement  when  they  lunched  together 
at  Eastbourne,  and  Lionel  this  afternoon  here 
at  No.  2,  Brown  Street,  was  very  great.  Was  she 
not  wronging  him  outrageously  ?  What  right 
had  she  to  allow  herself  to  become  a  necessity 
to  him,  and  then  to  say  "  No  "  ?  She  had  no 
right. 

When  the  crowd  had  gone  and  the  excitement 
was  over,  would  not  this  brief  momentary  mood 
of  toleration  of  him  pass  away,  and  would  she 
not,  pledged  bride  as  she  was,  repulse  him  as 
before  ?  Would  not  her  old  instinct  be  too 


TWO  SINNEES  151 

strong  for  her  ?  She  would  wait  and  see.  She 
might  try  being  strong. 

The  afternoon  was  slipping  slowly  away  and 
Lionel  had  not  played  or  sung.  Lady  Dorothy 
had  asked  one  of  her  youthful  friends  for  a 
Sonata  by  Beethoven  or  some  other  classical  com- 
poser, because  she  considered  the  determined  and 
persevering  exposition  of  permutations  and  com- 
binations in  sound  the  best  background  to  con- 
versation and  a  stimulus  to  perfectly  irrelevant 
thought.  The  young  lady  to  whom  the  request 
was  made  either  being  unable,  or  unwilling,  to 
perform  the  task,  played  instead  the  newest 
drawing-room  composition  of  the  newest  French 
composer.  This  composition  resembled  as  nearly 
as  possible  the  usual  efforts  of  a  piano- tuner  to 
tune  the  piano,  and  for  some  reason  unexplained 
to  Lady  Dorothy  that  reminded  her  suddenly 
that  though  she  had  been  busy  telling  every- 
body that  Major  Kames  was  not  merely  a  rider  to 
hounds  but  an  accomplished  musician,  her 
guests  had  not  yet  had  the  opportunity  of 
judging  for  themselves,  and  the  afternoon  was 
wearing  swiftly  to  a  close.  It  really  felt  a  little 
warm  in  the  drawing-room  and  Lady  Dorothy 
opened  the  door  into  the  writing-room  wider, 
and  pulled  the  heavy  carved  screen  that  con- 
cealed the  room  and  its  contents  a  trifle  on  one 
side. 

"  There,"  she  said,  "  more  air." 

Kames  was  at  her  side  at  that  moment,  ready 
to  help  her. 

"  Shall  I  open  a  window  ?  "  he  asked.    Lady 


152  TWO  SINNERS 

Dorothy  pretended  not  to  hear  such  an  outrageous 
suggestion. 

"  I  almost  thought  I  heard  his  voice,"  she 
said,  as  she  turned  back  to  the  drawing-room 
again. 

"  The  Kid's  voice  ?  "  inquired  Kames. 

'  Yes,  the  angel's,"  said  Lady  Dorothy. 
"  It  has  been  such  a  long  afternoon  for  him." 

"  He  can't  read  a  paper  and  smoke  to  while 
away  the  time,"  said  Kames. 

"  How  true ! "  exclaimed  Lady  Dorothy. 
'  You  are  such  a  clever  man.  Now  that  never 
occurred  to  me  before,  though  I  am  so  devoted 
to  him.  You  must  understand  as  few  people 
do  that  if  you  keep  a  dog  it  ought  to  be  a  point 
of  honour  to  treat  the  poor,  dumb,  helpless 
animal  justly,  otherwise  it  isn't  what  you  people 
call '  playing  the  game.'  By  the  bye,  it's  getting 
late  and  you  haven't  sung  yet — I  expect  people 
are  staying  on  to  hear  you  ;  I've  told  everybody 
what  a  musician  you  are." 

Lady  Dorothy  looked  tired — for  years  she 
had  not  had  so  much  excitement. 

'  You  have  told  them !  "  exclaimed  Kames. 
'  Well,  one  good  turn  deserves  another.  Do  you 
want  to  get  rid  of  the  crowd  and  hurry  upstairs 
to  the  lonely  orphan  ?  Because  if  you  do,  I'll 
clear  'em  out  like  the  very  devil  and  bring  the 
proceedings  to  a  close." 

"  My  dear  Lionel,"  she  said,  laughing,  "  what 
do  you  mean  ?  " 

He  really  was  the  most  unusual  and  most 
helpful  man  she  had  ever  known  ;  the  afternoon 


TWO  SINNERS  153 

was  getting  a  little  fatiguing,  though  it  had  been 
so  successful.  Kames,  however,  did  not  answer 
her  question.  He  had  disappeared. 

Maud  was  standing  by  the  piano  talking  to 
two  or  three  young  married  women  of  her  own 
age.  One  of  them  was  saying  to  her — 

"  Aren't  you  charmed  with  Orpenden  ?  " 
Always,  always  Orpenden ! 

Maud  was  leaning  one  hand  upon  the  piano, 
feeling  almost  faint  with  the  heat  and  yet 
dreading  the  moment  when  the  crowd  should 
go  and  leave  her  face  to  face  with  Kames — alone. 

"  Lady  Dorothy  commands  me  to  sing,"  said 
Kames,  suddenly  touching  Maud's  shoulder,  and 
bending  down,  he  added  in  a  voice  that  no  one 
but  herself  could  hear  : 

"  I  am  going  to  sing  something  for  your 
special  benefit,  nobody  else  will  know  what  the 
deuce  it's  all  about." 

A  song  for  her  special  benefit  ?  Maud  moved 
away  as  swiftly  as  she  could.  Was  he  going  to 
sing  her  a  love-song  in  this  public  place,  among 
this  crowd  of  people  good-naturedly  attracted 
hither  by  the  pleasant  rumour  of  money,  of 
prosperity  ? 

No,  not  that ;  they  could  understand  a  love- 
song  as  well  as  she  could,  unless  indeed  it  was 
something  very  subtle. 

What  did  he  mean  ?  Was  he  drawing  her 
still  deeper  into  the  bonds  that  bound  her  to 
him  ?  Was  he  making  it  more  and  more  im- 
possible for  her  to  release  herself  ? 

Sheer   nervousness   made  her  shrink   away 


154  TWO  SINNEKS 

without  looking  at  him  and  without  glancing 
at  any  one.  The  nearest  door  was  the  open  one 
into  the  writing-room.  She  must  escape.  She 
could  not  bear  to  hear  that  song,  sung  especially 
for  her.  It  had  been  agony  to  hear  that  song 
of  Grieg's  at  Orpenden.  This  might  be  worse. 
She  did  not  want  to  listen  to  his  secret  thoughts  ; 
such  thoughts  could  only  be  weapons  with  which 
to  wound  her,  frighten  her ;  and  she  slipped 
past  the  open  door,  past  the  heavy  carved  screen, 
and  stood  in  the  writing-room,  breathing  as  if 
she  had  run,  trying  not  to  hear  the  sounds  from 
the  drawing-room.  Should  she  escape  still 
farther  and  go  out  to  the  landing  ?  The  draw- 
ing-room door  was  already  wide  open  on  to  the 
landing  and  there  were  probably  some  people 
standing  there.  She  was  in  a  trap,  but  she  was 
safer  here.  Ah,  here  was  the  dreaded  sound 
coming.  Chords  on  the  piano  were  struck  very 
forcibly ;  then  they  got  fainter  as  if  the  player 
was  gradually  moving  away  from  the  crowd  and 
receding  into  the  distance.  Maud  could  feel 
the  hair  stir  upon  her  head,  as  if  the  presence 
of  some  supernatural  being  was  announced.  The 
noise  of  talking  suddenly  ceased,  and  from  that 
distance  whence  the  singer  seemed  to  have 
removed  himself  came  his  voice,  the  voice  she 
dreaded.  But  how  different  from  the  voice 
with  which  he  had  sung  in  the  drawing-room  at 
Orpenden !  Human  passion  had  died  out  of  it 
and  he  seemed  like  a  man  wrapt  in  a  profound 
reverie,  struggling  with  some  mystical  obscure 
thought.  The  words  were  unknown  to  her : 


TWO  SINNERS  155 

"  I  knew  not  where  I  entered, 
For  when  I  stood  within, 
Not  knowing  where  I  stood, 

I  heard  great  things. 
What  I  have  heard  I  dare  not  tell ! 
I  was  there  as  one  who  knew  nought, 

All  human  thought  transcending," 

When  his  voice  ceased  Maud  held  her  breath, 
waited  and  hoped  that  it  would  come  again. 
The  same  chords  were  repeated  but  in  a  higher 
key,  and  the  voice  came  again  : 

"  I  stood  enraptured 
In  ecstasy,  beside  myself, 
And  in  my  every  sense 

No  sense  remained. 
My  spirit  was  endowed 
With  understanding,  understanding  nought, 

All  human  thought  transcending.'1 

Maud  held  her  breath  and  waited  and  hoped 
again,  but  the  song  was  finished  and  the  last 
notes  of  the  piano  died  away.  It  was  cruelly 
short,  and  already  the  sensation  of  the  common 
world  was  rushing  upon  her  again.  She  could 
hear  the  loud,  jarring,  discordant,  confused  noise 
of  people  strongly  desirous  to  get  away,  a  hubbub 
of  good-byes,  no  doubt  graced  by  the  brief 
complimentary  phrases  that  are  useful  to  people 
who  are  afraid  of  being  bored  a  second  time ; 
she  could  hear  hurried  steps  on  the  landing,  down 
the  stairs.  Maud  could  hear  her  own  name 
called  out  as  if  she  was  being  sought  and  yet 
she  did  not  move.  A  sudden  rush  of  cold  air 
swept  under  the  door  to  her.  She  could  hear 
the  subdued  snorting  of  motors :  once  she 


156  TWO  SINNERS 

thought  she  could  distinguish  Lionel's  voice  and 
her  Aunt  Dorothy's  she  could  hear  plainly,  and 
yet  she  did  not  move. 

As  she  stood  staring  helplessly  before  her, 
something  gradually  entered  her  consciousness. 
The  room  was  empty  and  yet  she  was  not  alone  ! 
She  was  really  looking  at  something — at  some 
one.  A  human  form  was  between  her  and  the 
screen.  She  could  see  it  plainly  in  the  nickering 
light  of  the  fire  !  Who  was  it  ? 

She  knew  the  gaunt  figure  in  a  flash !  She 
recognised  it !  He  was  standing  in  front  of  the 
screen  with  his  back  towards  her.  His  arms 
were  clasped  behind  him,  and  she  saw  the  thin- 
ness of  his  wrists ;  his  head  was  bent,  his  iron- 
grey  hair  was  conspicuous.  How  amazing ! 
He  was  there  in  flesh  and  blood,  and  yet  his 
presence  was  impossible.  "  Father  Fitzherbert," 
she  called  very  softly,  afraid  of  her  own  voice, 
afraid  of  calling  upon  some  one  who  she  knew 
could  not  be  there  although  he  was  there. 

As  his  name  left  her  lips  the  form  became 
less  distinct,  and  her  startled  eyes  were  aware 
that  the  head  had  disappeared,  the  iron-grey 
hair  ;  then  the  hands,  so  definite  a  moment  ago, 
melted  away,  and  in  their  place  were  the  large 
ivory  chrysanthemums  in  a  panel  of  the  screen. 
A  fragment  of  the  cassock  was  still  visible.  She 
stretched  her  hands  out  into  empty  air,  the 
cassock  vanished  and  she  was  absolutely  alone. 

Had  that  strange  song  which  enthralled  her 
— which  was  meant  to  enthral  her — been  chal- 
lenged by  the  occult  world  ?  Was  that  phantom 


TWO  SINNERS  157 

of  Fitzherbert  projected  into  space  as  a  protest 
from  the  real  spiritual  world  against  the  artifice 
of  genius  ?  Or  was  that  vision  the  work  of  her 
own  subconscious  memory  asserting  itself — her 
truer  self  reminding  her  frailer  self  of  human 
faith  and  human  duty,  of  honour  that  she  was 
always  forgetting,  of  the  urgent  moral  necessity 
either  to  send  this  man  away,  or  to  take  him 
now  and  for  always  as  her  friend  and  lover  ? 

Maud  shuddered.  A  sound  came  to  her  of 
the  front-door  banging,  a  gust  of  wind  blew  in 
from  the  staircase  and  made  the  fire  flicker  with 
a  sudden  blaze.  She  could  hear  footsteps  hurry- 
ing from  below  upstairs,  past  the  door  and  then 
again  upstairs  ;  then  came  silence. 

Her  cheeks  were  cold  now ;  she  felt  an  icy 
chill  in  all  her  veins. 

Some  one  was  coming  into  the  room  from  the 
drawing-room.  It  was  Kames  ;  he  pushed  past 
the  screen  and  stood  before  her. 

"  Maud  !  "  he  said. 

She  did  not  move. 

He  stood  there,  a  man  shorn  of  all  his  old 
self-possession,  his  satisfaction  with  the  world, 
his  humour,  his  buoyancy.  An  unbearable 
emotion,  a  piercing  ache  that  caught  him  below 
the  heart  was  wringing  out  of  him  all  the  garnered 
self-complacency  of  a  pampered  manhood.  He 
stood  there  silent,  protesting  with  his  eyes ;  no 
phrases  came  to  his  lips.  He  held  out  his  arms 
to  her,  but  she  did  not  move.  At  last  he  came 
forward  with  a  rapid  step  and  caught  her  to  him. 

"  Maud,  try  to  love  me,"  he  said.    He  lifted 


158  TWO  SINNEES 

her  arms  to  his  neck,  but  they  fell  limply  from 
his  shoulders  and  fell  at  her  side.  Not  all  the 
fire  of  his  own  passion  could  rouse  in  her  any 
response. 

She  strained  her  face  away  from  him. 

"  It  is  hopeless,"  she  said.  "  Every  way  it 
is  hopeless  1  " 

He  took  her  face  in  his  hands. 

"  Love  me,"  he  said. 

"  I  can't— Lionel— I  can't !  " 

The  words  that  ought  to  have  been  uttered 
long  ago  were  uttered  at  last  and  they  could 
never  be  withdrawn. 

A  piercing  sound,  a  dog's  bark,  seemed  to 
strike  at  them  from  the  door  behind  them ;  some 
one  was  coming  in.  Dizzy  as  Maud  was,  she 
realised  in  a  flash  that  her  Aunt  Dorothy  was 
there,  standing,  amazed,  stricken  at  the  scene. 

Maud  released  herself  from  Kames's  arms. 

"  It's — all — over — between — us,"  she  said, 
stammering  ;  "  it's — all — over,"  and  she  made 
her  way  blindly  past  Lady  Dorothy  and  went 
out  at  the  door. 

Lady  Dorothy  stood  just  as  she  had  entered 
the  room  by  the  door  with  Kiddie  in  her  arms, 
staring  with  blank  consternation. 

"  Lionel !  "  she  cried.  "  You  won't  allow 
this ! " 

Then  she  turned  on  the  lights,  as  if  that  would 
dispel  the  nightmare.  But  there  was  Kames, 
his  head  bent,  his  features  contracted,  silent, 
like  a  pugilist  who  has  been  dealt  a  blow  from 
which  he  cannot  recover. 


TWO  SINNERS  159 

"  Lionel !  "  cried  Lady  Dorothy.  "  This  is 
nonsense,  is  it  not  ? — this  is  a  silly  fad  of  Maud's, 
nothing  more  ?  She's  quarrelled  with  you.'* 

Kames  raised  his  head. 

"  From  the  very  first  she  never  cared  for  me. 
I  tried  to  overcome  that  and  I  failed.  Don't 
blame  her,  nor  me." 

"  I  do  blame  her,"  cried  Lady  Dorothy, 
"  for  allowing " 

"  Don't  blame  her,"  said  Kames  drearily. 
"  I  don't  blame  her,  and  God  knows  it's  I  who 
have  lost  everything.  It's  off  and  there's  no 
going  back."  He  pulled  himself  together  and 
walked  up  to  Lady  Dorothy. 

"  Surely "  she  began. 

"  No  !  There's  no  going  back.  I've  had  my 
sentence.  Thanks  for  all  your  kindness,  and 
good-bye  !  "  He  bent  over  her  hand,  and  before 
she  could  recover  herself  he  had  passed  her  and 
had  gone  out  and  down  the  stairs.  She  clutched 
at  Kiddie,  pressing  him  against  her ;  he  too 
seemed  cowed  and  quiescent. 

"  Oh,  what  a  wretched  piece  of  work ! " 
moaned  the  old  lady.  Then  she  went  to  the 
easy-chair  and  sinking  into  it  burst  into  tears. 
"  No  more  Major  Kames !  Oh,  Maud,  Maud, 
what  a  wicked— what  a  fool  you  are !  "  groaned 
Lady  Dorothy. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MOEE  than  four  months  had  passed  away— 
slowly  enough.  All  that  spring  was  to  Maud 
nothing  now  but  a  sinister  memory — the  memory 
of  her  illness  in  their  lodgings  at  Brighton — an 
illness  lasting  some  weeks,  through  which  Ursula 
had  watched  over  her  with  inexhaustible  patience, 
never  once  alluding  to  the  cause  of  that  illness, 
never  mentioning  the  past  nor  suggesting  a 
plan  for  the  future. 

At  last  summer  had  come  in  all  its  first 
freshness,  and  Maud  felt  well  again.  The 
early  summer  deepened  into  full  heat  and 
blossom,  and  the  great  white  stretch  of  houses 
along  the  sea-front  at  Brighton  became  dazzling 
like  an  Oriental  city  under  the  glare  of  a  July 
sun.  The  pavement  stung  their  feet,  the  heat 
palpitated  visibly  on  the  beach  as  if  the  particles 
of  air  had  become  liquid.  Stella  was  away. 
London  was  the  only  place  in  the  world  to  Stella. 
George  Broughton  was  there  and  Aunt  Dorothy 
was  eager  to  distract  her  mind  from  the  pain 
and  embarrassment  of  the  Kames  affair  by  having 
Stella  with  her  and  quarrelling  with  her  over 
the  preparation  of  the  little  flat  that  was  to  be 
the  future  home  of  the  young  couple.  It  was  a 
comforting  reflection  to  Lady  Dorothy  that  at 
least  one  of  the  two  weddings  was  actually  going 


TWO  SINNERS  161 

to  take  place.  Maud's  would  have  been  far 
more  interesting — but  there — it  was  no  use 
scolding  Maud ;  it  was  better  to  let  Ursula 
nurse  her  while  she  tried  to  make  the  best  of 
Stella  (such  as  she  was). 

As  soon  as  Maud  had  recovered  her  nervous 
strength,  she  and  Ursula  had  set  to  work  at 
making  Stella's  trousseau.  It  was  to  be  their 
joint  wedding  present  to  her.  To  Ursula  it  was 
a  labour  of  love  and  duty ;  to  Maud  it  was  a 
self-imposed  penance,  a  task  of  bitter  sweetness 
to  which  she  felt  herself  justly  condemned,  a 
task  of  proper  humility  from  which  she  tried  hard 
to  purge  all  self-pity. 

In  all  their  desultory  talks  together  in  the 
long  lovely  summer  evenings  over  their  work, 
the  two  sisters  still  refrained  from  speaking  to 
each  other  of  what  touched  them  to  the  quick, 
Lionel  Kames,  and — what  they  were  to  do — 
where  they  were  to  go — after  Stella's  wedding 
was  over  ?  The  lodgings  ceased  to  be  theirs 
after  July  29 — that  had  been  arranged  long  ago, 
and  they  were  already  let  to  strangers. 

Often  and  often  as  she  bent  over  her  stitch- 
ing, Ursula  would  glance  furtively  at  Maud  and 
wonder  if  she  dared  ask  that  question,  "  What 
shall  we  do  ?  Where  shall  we  go  ?  "  Maud 
seemed  more  self-controlled,  more  uniformly 
cheerful  than  she  had  been  before,  but  she  had 
become  remote  and  unapproachable.  Her  be- 
haviour was  affectionate,  considerate,  even  at 
times  tender,  but  she  had  clothed  herself  in  an 
impenetrable  reserve  and  forbade  any  intrusion. 

M 


162  TWO  SINNERS 

Ursula  sighed,  for  she  knew  behind  that  im- 
penetrable silence  lay  wounded  pride  and  acute 
disappointment. 

Many  a  day  had  Maud  lingered  by  the  railings 
of  the  Parade,  looking  over  at  the  summer  sea, 
recalling  that  afternoon  in  February — so  eventful 
at  the  time — and  the  strangeness  of  that  sunset. 
The  impulse  had  come  upon  her  now  and  again 
to  write  to  Fitzherbert  and  tell  him  that  she  had 
done  what  she  believed  to  be  right,  and  that 
"  the  earth  had  grown  grey  "  in  the  light  of  that 
duty.  The  impulse  to  write  had  been  strong, 
but  it  had  always  been  overcome  by  a  feeling  of 
pride.  By  this  time  he  might  even  have  forgotten 
who  she  was.  Fancy  looking  for  an  intimate 
sympathy  and  having  to  explain  who  you  were  ! 

On  July  22  Stella  was  to  be  married.  The 
time  was  almost  at  hand,  and  Maud  was  bracing 
herself  up  to  go  through  the  ordeal.  When  that 
ordeal  was  over  they  had  to  pack  their  own 
possessions,  and  after  a  brief  holiday  away 
somewhere — it  didn't  matter  where — the  ques- 
tion must  be  settled,  where  to  live — the  silence 
must  be  broken.  Maud  did  not  know  which 
would  give  her  the  most  intolerable  pain,  seeing 
her  Aunt  Dorothy  again  after  all  that  had  passed, 
seeing  George  Broughton  again,  seeing  Stella's 
future  home,  or  meeting  at  the  wedding  Brough- 
ton's  relatives  and  many  of  the  very  people 
who  had  congratulated  her  on  her  future  posses- 
sion of  Orpenden. 

Endure  all  this  she  must,  and  she  must  endure 
it  without  letting  any  one  see  that  it  hurt  her. 


TWO  SINNERS  163 

After  all,  she  was  only  suffering  for  her  own 
folly.  No  injustice  had  been  done  to  her — it 
was  she  who  was  to  blame !  No  one  had  been 
false  to  her — no  one  had  made  her  distrust 
human  nature.  It  wras  herself  she  distrusted. 

On  July  20  Ursula  and  Maud  went  up  to  town, 
taking  with  them  their  present  to  Stella — Stella's 
trousseau. 

No.  2,  Brown  Street,  was  full  to  overflowing 
with  Stella's  purchases,  Stella's  presents  and 
Stella's  happiness.  Lady  Dorothy  got  a  sort 
of  grim  pleasure  out  of  it  all,  mingled  with 
exasperation  at  Stella's  lack  of  sense.  The 
bustle  and  the  talk  distracted  her  from  memories 
of  the  wedding  that  ought  to  have  been  and  of 
Major  Kames.  When  the  two  sisters  arrived 
at  Brown  Street  the  meeting  was  full  of  em- 
barrassment on  both  sides — Stella  alone  was  too 
buoyantly  happy  to  care.  Stella  had  more  than 
once  communicated  to  George  the  idea  that 
Maud  had  fortunately  discovered  for  herself 
what  she,  Stella,  had  known  all  along  and  had 
acted  on — that  is,  that  Major  Kames  was  not 
quite  suitable  to  be  the  husband  of  a  Monckton. 
Maud  looked  very  much  as  she  had  looked  six 
months  ago,  only  that  her  step  was  a  little  weary 
sometimes.  She  kept  her  face  under  perfect 
control  and  smiled  quite  as  much  as  was  necessary 
for  the  occasion.  Stella  was  bubbling  over  with 
projects.  She  was  going  to  have  a  model  home, 
she  was  going  to  plunge  into  wild  success  in  the 
musical  world,  and  she  was  going  to  back  up  dear 
George  and  dear  George's  ambitions.  She  was 


161  TWO  SINNERS 

going  to  help  him.  She  was  going  to  stalk  into 
his  laboratory,  look  round  her,  and  get  a  sort 
of  swift  comprehensive  bird's  eye  view  of  bio- 
logical science.  Then  she  could  aid  him  with 
suggestions,  with  flashes  of  feminine  insight. 
Hitherto  there  hadn't  been  time  because  of  all 
the  shopping. 

And  what  about  George  ?  Maud  searched 
his  face  for  his  thoughts.  He,  too,  was  radiant 
and  no  less  confident  than  Stella.  He  knew  that 
he  would  be  able  to  work  as  he  had  never  worked 
before ;  he  was  as  gay  as  a  schoolboy  on  a 
holiday. 

"  It's  a  merciful  thing  that  Stella  had  me  at  her 
back,"  grumbled  Lady  Dorothy, "  or  I  don't  know 
what  intolerable  rubbish  she  would  have  bought." 

This  sent  Broughton  into  fits  of  delighted 
laughter,  and  made  the  future  husband  and  wife 
glance  at  each  other  with  a  secret  understanding 
and  a  generous  forgiveness  for  the  old  lady.  How 
gay  the  world  was  ! — how  brilliant  Stella's  cheeks ! 

On  the  day  of  the  wedding,  even  with  Ursula's 
and  Maud's  help,  Stella  managed  to  mislay 
everything  she  could  mislay.  George  had  given 
her  pearl  earrings  and  these  could  not  be  found 
when  it  was  time  to  dress.  After  a  frantic 
search  had  been  made,  they  were  found  under 
her  dressing-table,  and  then  the  turquoise  ear- 
rings disappeared,  the  earrings  in  which  Stella  had 
lived  and  moved  and  had  her  being  for  so  long. 

The  wonder  was  that  the  bride  ever  reached 
the  church.  But  she  came  at  last ;  and  even 
Maud,  looking  at  her,  doubted  if  she  had  ever 


TWO  SINNERS  165 

seen  a  handsomer  girl.    Broughton  was  full  of 
reverent  attention. 

Alas !  Kiddie  was  not  present  at  the  cere- 
mojiy.  He  had  been  decorated  with  a  white 
bow  by  the  bride's  own  hands,  and  then  he  was 
left  behind  shrieking  in  the  drawing-room  at  a 
window.  It  was,  indeed,  his  face  that  they  saw  first 
on  their  return  from  church  when  the  ceremony 
was  over  and  Stella  was  Mrs.  George  Broughton. 

How  hot  London  was !  and  how  hot  the 
rooms  at  No.  2,  Brown  Street ! 

"  Think  of  us,"  said  Broughton  gaily,  "  cross- 
ing the  Channel  at  five  o'clock  and  getting  a 
breath  of  fresh  air !  "  He  was  giving  a  last 
shake  of  the  hand  to  Ursula  as  he  spoke. 

They  were  all  gathering  in  the  hall  to  see  the 
last  of  Stella  and  her  husband. 

"  I  say,  Aunt  Dorothy,"  added  Broughton 
"  shall  we  take  Kiddie  with  us  ?  I'll  promise 
to  be  kind  to  him." 

"  I  couldn't  let  the  cruel  man  have  him," 
said  Lady  Dorothy,  "  but  he  shall  wave  a  little 
paw  to  you  as  you  go  off." 

So  the  bride  and  bridegroom  went  down  the 
front  steps,  and  Maud,  flushed  with  fatigue 
and  with  a  great  yearning  void  at  her  heart, 
stood  at  the  doorway  with  Ursula  and  her  aunt. 
Broughton  got  into  the  motor-brougham,  the 
door  was  banged  to ;  then  came  a  waving  of 
hands  and  the  whirr  of  the  motor. 

The  buzz  caused  by  the  crowd  that  always 
gathers  at  the  door  of  a  wedding  and  the  traffic 
of  the  streets  was  pierced  by  Kiddie's  farewell 


166  TWO  SINNERS 

screams.  His  struggles  were  so  frantic  that 
Lady  Dorothy  let  him  slip  to  the  ground  so  that 
she  could  be  free  to  wave  her  hand.  The  car 
moved,  the  obstinate  crowd  were  pushed  aside 
by  a  policeman,  but  for  a  moment  the  car  backed 
to  get  a  clear  path,  then  it  swerved  and  then 
jerked  forward  again,  and  as  it  did  so  a  sound 
struck  on  Maud's  ears.  She  turned  swiftly  and 
looked  at  Lady  Dorothy. 

S(  They  are  gone,"  said  Lady  Dorothy  and 
she  sighed — for  one  brief  moment  she  had  even 
forgotten  Kiddie.  She  turned  back  into  the  hall 
and  sighed  again, for  there  is  something  profoundly 
sad  as  well  as  profoundly  joyful  in  the  breaking 
off  of  an  old  life  to  begin  a  new  life.  Why 
there  should  be  this  dual  emotion  in  her  heart 
Lady  Dorothy  did  not  know,  but  there  it  was ! 

''  Ursula,"  whispered  Maud,  laying  a  sudden 
hand  on  her  sister's  arm,  "  something  has  hap- 
pened to  Kiddie.  Take  Aunt  Dorothy  upstairs  ; 
don't  let  her  know  anything  till  the  people  have 
gone." 

Out  from  the  moving  crowd,  up  the  steps, 
Maud  saw  Jackson  coming  towards  her,  his  face 
white.  He  had  something  in  his  arms. 

"The  dog's  dead,  Miss,"  he  said.  "  The 
ribbon  must  have  been  loose,  and  when  the  car 
backed,  caught  it  and  pulled  him  under.  What's 
to  be  done  with  her  ladyship,  I  don't  know." 

Kiddie  lay  in  his  arms,  limp  and  lifeless,  the 
wedding  favour  was  pulled  out  into  a  crushed 
and  dirty  string.  That  minute  personality, 
with  all  its  vices  and  its  virtues  had  ceased  to  be. 


CHAPTER  XV 

IF  Jackson  had  been  asked  any  day  these  last 
eight  years  whether  he  would  rejoice  at  Kiddie's 
decease,  he  would  have  replied  in  the  affirmative. 
Not  only  the  dog,  but  the  dog's  shop  where  the 
dog  was  measured  for  his  coats,  was  loathed  by 
Jackson  with  a  loathing  that  he  was  never  able 
to  express  in  adequate  words.  But  now  on  this 
fateful  day  in  July  when  Kiddie  lay  in  his  arms 
for  the  last  time,  motionless  and  noiseless,  the 
accumulated  wrath  of  years  vanished  from 
Jackson's  mind  and  left  him  occupied  with 
suitable  arrangements  for  Kiddie's  interment 
to  the  exclusion  of  other  thought. 

Her  ladyship  was  prostrate.  Miss  Monckton 
and  Miss  Maud  had  as  much  as  they  could  do  to 
look  after  her,  and  to  Jackson  fell  the  duty  of 
writing  to  the  dog's  shop  to  order  a  box  lined 
with  white  satin,  in  which  Kiddie's  remains  could 
be  reverently  buried  in  the  little  square  of  garden 
behind  the  house  whence  Kiddie  used  to  chase 
the  cats  in  the  days  agone.  Jackson  had  just 
written  the  letter,  and  Mrs.  Jackson,  who  had 
kept  house  for  many  a  long  year,  flushed  with  the 
complicated  events  of  the  day  was  leaning  over 
his  shoulder  looking  at  it. 

'  'Ow  you  can  sign  yourself  '  yours  truly ' 


168  TWO  SINNERS 

to  a  shop  which  always  annoys  you,  is  more  than 
I  can  believe,"  she  remarked. 

Jackson  folded  the  letter  into  the  envelope. 
He  meant  to  go  out  and  post  it  to  catch  the 
midnight  post.  There  were  fully  five  minutes 
to  spare. 

"  As  far  as  this  'ere  flowery  business  is  con- 
cerned, I  h'am  '  yours  truly,'  and  very  much 
so,"  he  said,  as  he  took  out  his  watch. 

"  She  may  get  a  worse  dog,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Jackson. 

"  There  ain't  no  worse  ones,"  said  Jackson ; 
"  he  was  the  limit.  But  he  don't  exist  now." 

"  'Ow  do  you  know  that,  Jackson  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Jackson,  moving  away  from  her  spouse. 

It  was  this  doubt  suggested  by  Mrs.  Jackson 
in  the  secrecy  of  the  "  room,"  that  tormented 
Lady  Dorothy  upstairs  in  her  bedroom,  as  she 
lay  in  bed  sleepless.  Her  face,  built  to  express 
self-esteem  and  propriety,  looked  strangely 
altered  in  its  abandonment  of  woe.  Even  the 
pink  ribbons  that  tied  back  her  grey  hair  were 
Hmp  and  twisted.  She  blinked  wretchedly  at 
the  couch  where  Kiddie's  little  basket  was 
reverently  placed  and  covered  with  a  white  cloth. 

''  Yes,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  some  soothing 
talk  from  Ursula,  "  but  no  one  can  understand 
but  I."  She  glanced  round  the  room  fretfully 
for  Maud. 

Into  Lady  Dorothy's  stricken  heart  a  half- 
unconscious  jealousy  had  sprung  into  existence. 
She  had  never  cared  for  Ursula  :  she  disliked 
having  a  middle-aged  niece  with  her,  she  disliked 


TWO  SINNERS  169 

Ursula's  grey  hair  and  disliked  her  eye  glares 
Ursula  was  too  much  a  reduplication  of  herself 
in  appearance.  Now,  as  the  emptiness  of  life 
stared  Lady  Dorothy  hard  in  the  face,  she  began 
to  feel  jealous  of  Ursula.  Lady  Dorothy  had 
lost  her  husband  and  had  lost  her  dog,  but 
Ursula  had  not  lost  Maud.  Maud  belonged  to 
Ursula  ;  between  Maud  and  herself  stood  Ursula. 

"  He  was  spared  old  age,"  said  Ursula  gently. 
"  He  must  have  been  killed  in  a  moment — it 
must  have  been  almost  painless." 

Lady  Dorothy  was  not  to  be  consoled  so 
easily.  Although  Kiddie  could  not  be  prepared 
(in  the  usual  way)  for  the  next  world  (if  there 
is  one  for  dogs),  there  might  be  (who  knows  ?) 
some  way  of  making  him  understand  that  the 
parting  was  not  for  ever.  '  You've  never  lost 
anybody — recently,"  moaned  Lady  Dorothy, 
and  then  she  added  almost  in  the  same  sob, 
"  Where's  Maud  ?  " 

After  the  bustle,  noise  and  excitement  of 
the  day,  No.  2,  Brown  Street  was  still ;  except  in 
the  servants'  quarter,  the  lower  part  of  the 
house  was  in  darkness.  Maud  was  in  the  dressing- 
room,  where  by  her  aunt's  urgent  request  a  bed 
had  been  made  for  her.  At  the  sound  of  her 
Aunt  Dorothy's  call  Maud  opened  the  door  and 
came  into  the  room. 

"  Go  to  bed,  Ursula,"  said  Maud,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  I  shall  leave  the  dressing-room  door 
wide  open  so  that  Aunt  Dorothy  can  call  me  any 
moment.  It  is  nearly  half -past  twelve  and  you 
look  frightfully  tired." 


170  TWO  SINNERS 

Maud  followed  her  sister  to  the  door — and 
then  at  a  sign  from  her  followed  her  into  the 
passage.  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  said 
Ursula,  in  a  whisper.  "  Aunt  Dorothy  will  be 
better  quite  alone  with  you — I  think  I  irritate 
her.  Now  some  one  must  go  back  to  our  Brighton 
lodgings  to  pack  up  all  our  things  and  warehouse 
them.  I  will  go  to-morrow  by  the  first  morning 
train.  You  will  stay  behind,  dear,  and  try  and 
comfort  poor  Aunt  Dorothy." 

Ursula  spoke  in  a  tone  of  command.  She 
always  did  that  when  what  she  commanded 
was  what  she  knew  would  best  please  Maud. 
She  never  discovered  that  by  doing  so  she 
betrayed  herself ;  the  idea  did  not  cross  her 
mind,  her  guile  was  so  simple. 

Maud  stood  looking  at  her  sister's  face. 
"  Can  you  do  the  packing  alone  ?  "  she  asked, 
and  her  eyes  fell. 

The  pretence  was  meaningless — Ursula  was 
one  of  those  women  who  always  can  do  every- 
thing alone.  Maud  knew  it,  had  always  known 
it,  but  she  had  to  say  something — she  had  to 
pretend  to  protest. 

"  I  don't  need  you,"  said  Ursula,  "  and  I 
will  send  you  anything  you  want.  I  shall  know 
what  you  are  likely  to  need  for  now  and  for  our 
holiday  together." 

"  Yes,"  said  Maud  slowly — "  for  our  holiday 
together,"  and  she  stood  with  downcast  eyes. 

"  Good  night,  dear,"  said  Ursula  and  kissed 
her.  She  waited  for  one  brief  moment,  but 
Maud  said  nothing  except  "  Good  night."  Ursula 


TWO  SINNERS  171 

moved  away.  Maud  went  into  her  aunt's  bed- 
room. "  I  am  going  to  bed,  dear  Aunt  Dorothy," 
she  said,  going  up  to  the  old  lady.  "  I  shall 
hear  you  if  you  call  ever  so  softly.  Will  that 
content  you  ?  " 

Lady  Dorothy  sighed. 

"  Try  and  sleep,"  said  Maud,  "  if  you  can." 

"  I  can't  sleep,  child,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Try,"  said  Maud  again,  and  she  bent  down 
and  kissed  her  aunt's  cheek.  Then  she  went 
back  into  the  dressing-room,  leaving  the  door 
wide  open. 

Maud  lay  awake  thinking.  Ursula  had  hoped 
that  when  she  said  "  Good  night "  Maud  would 
say  something  about  that  "  holiday  together," 
would  give  some  sign  that  she  anticipated, 
valued,  the  future  that  the  two  sisters  were  to 
spend  together — and  Maud  had  said  nothing. 
Even  now,  almost  at  the  hour  of  parting,  she 
had  not  broken  the  reserve.  To  the  same  old 
obstinate  refusal  to  face  the  inevitable,  to  the 
same  feeble  procrastinating  spirit  to  which  she 
had  sacrificed  Lionel,  she  was  now  sacrificing 
Ursula. 

How  was  she  to  fight  against  her  weakness  ? 
How  conquer  her  moral  cowardice  and  make 
herself  strong  ?  With  Lionel,  the  stimulus  to 
speak  out  had  at  last  come  to  her  through  the 
sudden  interposition  of  Fitzherbert.  Now,  who 
was  there  who  could  help  her  ? 

As  she  lay  thinking  in  the  darkness  she  heard 
a  voice.  A  footstep  was  outside  her  door  and 
she  heard  a  rustle. 


172  TWO  SINNERS 

"  Aunt  Dorothy,"  she  called,  and  she  put 
out  her  hand  and  turned  on  the  light. 

It  was  Lady  Dorothy.  Her  dressing-gown 
was  wrapped  carelessly  round  her.  Her  face 
was  flushed  and  her  eyes  brilliant,  her  hair 
disordered. 

"  Maud,"  she  said,  "  I  can't  sleep.  My  head 
aches,  aches  with  thinking." 

Maud  took  her  aunt's  hands  in  hers — they 
were  burning  with  fever. 

"  The  Moncktons  have  had  nothing  but  mis- 
fortunes lately,"  she  began,  speaking  hurriedly 
and  in  a  weak  voice.  :<  There  was  your  grand- 
father who  gambled  the  old  place  away ;  then 
your  father  was  an  unbeliever  and  lost  his  first 
wife  ;  then  Ursula  never  had  an  offer  of  marriage 
in  the  whole  of  her  life.  Now  Stella  is  married 
to  poor  George  and  she'll  never  be  able  to  live 
on  his  income,  take  my  word  for  that.  Then 
I  lost  my  husband,  and  now  I  have  lost  Kiddie 
and  you."  Then  Lady  Dorothy  stared  excitedly 
at  the  girl.  "  Here  you  go  and  send  away,  of 
all  men  in  the  world,  Major  Kames — you  ruin 
your  life  for  no  reason — for  no  proper  reason. 
It  is  the  bad  luck  of  the  Moncktons."  She 
spoke  feverishly  :  "  Oh  !  the  world  is  a  sad,  sad 
place ! " 

Maud  got  out  of  bed  and  put  her  arm  round 
the  thin,  stiff,  little  figure. 

"  Go  back  to  bed,  dear.  Come,  I  will  take 
you.  Don't  talk,  don't  think." 

For  an  hour  Maud  watched  by  the  bed  until 
at  last  her  aunt's  eyes  closed  and  the  old  lady 


TWO  SINNERS  173 

lay  still,  but  breathing  rapidly  and  unevenly. 
Kiddie's  covered  basket  on  the  sofa  was  looking 
solemn  in  the  pale  morning  light. 

Maud  went  to  bed  and  slept  till  the  household 
was  astir. 

When  she  looked  into  her  aunt's  room  she 

saw  her  still  dozing,  but  with  some  slight  trace 

of  fever  in  the  cheeks  and  in  the  hasty  breathing. 

Maud  found  Ursula  already  dressing  and  they 

decided  to  telephone  for  the  family  doctor. 

"  It's  only  nerves,"  he  said,  when  he  went 
downstairs  with  Maud,  after  seeing  his  patient ; 
"  but  you  must  remember  that  she's  an  elderly 
lady  and  you  must  keep  her  quiet." 
"  How  quiet  ?  "  asked  Maud. 
"  A  little  bromide  will  probably  put  her  all 
right,"   he  replied.    "  Keep  her  in  bed  till   I 
come  again." 

So  Ursula  went  down  to  Brighton  alone,  and 
waited  for  news  of  her  Aunt  Dorothy  while  she 
packed  her  own  and  her  sister's  possessions  and 
pondered  over  the  future.  In  a  couple  of  days 
Lady  Dorothy  was  well  enough  to  come  down  to 
the  drawing-room.  Her  thoughts  were  not  solely 
about  Kiddie  and  the  sad  speculation  as  to 
whether  he  still  existed  in  some  other  state  of 
being,  for  the  jealousy  of  Ursula  was  growing 
within  her  and  it  culminated  in  a  sudden  flare. 

"  Maud,"  she  said,  from  the  couch  where  she 
was  resting,  "  the  doctor  wants  me  to  go  away. 
You  heard  that  ?  " 
Maud  assented. 
"  I  shall  go  abroad  if  you  will  come  with  me  ; 


174  TWO  SINNERS 

but  if  Ursula  objects  to  that,  then  I  shall  remain 
here  and  I  shan't  go  away." 

She  spoke  with  abruptness,  and  then  taking 
out  her  handkerchief  shed  a  few  tears. 

"  I  alone,  without  Ursula  ?  "  asked  Maud 
gently. 

'Yes,"  said  Lady  Dorothy.  "She  might 
spare  you  a  little  while  surely,  considering  all  I 
have  gone  through." 

Maud  was  silent.  Would  Ursula  consent  ? 
Of  course  she  would.  Ursula  always  consented 
to  sacrifice  herself. 

"  You  don't  want  to  go  with  me  ?  "  demanded 
Lady  Dorothy. 

"  Yes,"  said  Maud.  She  dared  not  say  even 
to  herself  that  her  sentence  was  reprieved,  that 
she  could  put  off  that  final  decision — where  she 
and  Ursula  were  to  pass  the  long  dreary  years 
that  stared  in  front  of  them. 

"  Considering  all  you  have  lost  and  all  I 
have  lost,"  murmured  Lady  Dorothy,  "  I  think 
we  should  find  a  little  holiday  abroad  together 
a  real  comfort  to  both  of  us.  So  write  at  once  to 
Ursula,  child,  and  get  it  settled." 

So  Maud  wrote,  feeling  hot  and  guilty  and 
excited.  For  twenty-four  hours  Lady  Dorothy 
was  impatiently  awaiting  Ursula's  reply. 

"  What  does  she  say  ?  "  she  demanded  of  Maud 
almost  before  her  niece  had  opened  the  letter. 

"  She  says  '  certainly,'  "  said  Maud,  and  her 
cheeks  burned,  partly  with  shame  at  her  own 
thoughts.  "  And  she  will  remain  on  at 
Brighton." 


TWO  SINNERS  175 

"  It  can't  really  matter  to  her  very  much. 
In  fact  I  should  think  it  would  really  suit  her," 
said  Lady  Dorothy,  closing  her  eyes  and  speak- 
ing softly.  "  She  is  in  excellent  health  and  has 
lost  no  one  and  has  so  many  little  occupations 
of  a  religious  and  philanthropic  kind — all  in 
Brighton." 

And  so  it  was  settled — and  no  sooner  was  it 
settled  than  Lady  Dorothy  began  to  pick  up 
her  strength  a  little  and,  through  her  constant 
tears,  to  make  shrewd  useful  suggestions  to 
Maud  about  what  clothes  would  be  necessary 
to  take  with  them.  Also  she  sketched  out  a 
general  plan  of  the  route  they  should  take. 

Maud  had  been  abroad  many  times  with 
Ursula  and  Stella.  Ursula's  thrift  had  enabled 
her  to  take  her  sisters  abroad  when  a  richer  and 
less  judicious  woman  would  have  found  it 
financially  impossible.  The  question,  therefore, 
was  not  where  Maud  would  care  to  go  but  where 
Lady  Dorothy  thought  it  was  "  least  unbear- 
able." That  was  how  she  put  it  and  wished 
Maud  to  put  it,  so  they  both  put  it  like  that. 

The  old  lady  had  never  been  abroad  in  her 
life  except  to  school  in  Paris.  Mr.  Broughton 
had  disliked  foreigners  and  foreign  places,  and 
since  his  death  Lady  Dorothy  had  spent  her  life 
in  London  varied  by  a  month  in  Perthshire 
during  August  and  September.  The  whole  of 
Europe  was  before  her,  all  new  and  unknown, 
where  she  could  wander  lamenting  the  loss  of 
the  dearest  companion  of  her  later  life.  And 
so  it  was  settled  that  they  would  go  to  the  places 


176  TWO  SINNEES 

where  it  would  be  "least  unbearable,"  and  in 
about  a  fortnight's  time. 

When  that  time  at  last  came  Lady  Dorothy 
with  many  tears  and  heartfelt  sighs  went  into 
the  little  back-garden  at  No.  2,  Brown  Street 
with  Maud  and  laid  some  flowers  on  Kiddie's 
grave  for  the  last  time — perhaps  for  weeks — 
or  for  months.  The  Jacksons  would  look  after 
the  grave  and  not  forget  to  put  flowers  upon  it 
every  week. 

Perhaps  the  sentiment  of  this  parting  would 
have  been  too  great  a  strain  on  Lady  Dorothy's 
nerves  had  not  there  been  a  certain  haste 
necessary  in  their  visit  to  the  garden.  They 
had  to  have  lunch  earlier  than  usual  and  then 
drive  to  Charing  Cross  in  ample  time — as  during 
August  there  was  always  a  crowded  boat  train 
and  some  delay  in  registering  the  luggage.  Then 
came  what  Maud  dreaded,  the  meeting  with 
Ursula  and  the  "  Good-bye."  The  plan  was 
that  Ursula,  who  had  decided  to  get  other 
lodgings  in  Brighton  for  the  present,  should  run 
up  to  town  to  see  them  off.  She  did  not  propose 
coming  to  Brown  Street  but  meeting  them  at 
Charing  Cross.  Whether  this  was  because  Ursula 
felt  the  parting  too  much  to  wish  to  prolong  it, 
or  because  she  foresaw  some  possible  friction 
from  Aunt  Dorothy's  side,  Maud  could  not  guess. 
"  You  are  good,  Ursula,"  whispered  Maud,  as 
she  kissed  her  sister.  '  You  are  generous." 

Quite  oblivious  of  the  significance  of  the  part- 
ing to  Ursula,  Lady  Dorothy  met  her  in  the 
spirit  of  one  who  has  suffered,  and  who  wishes 


TWO  SINNERS  177 

to  be  duly  commiserated.  Kiddie's  funeral  had 
taken  place  since  she  last  saw  Ursula,  all  these 
plans  had  been  sketched  out  for  the  distraction 
of  her  grief  since  she  last  saw  her,  and  she  kissed 
her  niece  with  a  certain  suffering  solemnity. 

As  soon  as  they  had  secured  a  carriage  it 
seemed  to  Lady  Dorothy  that  as  they  were 
leaving  Ursula  behind  something  should  be  said 
suitable  to  the  occasion. 

'  You  know,  my  dear,"  she  said,  leaning 
from  her  corner  to  the  window  and  speaking 
down  at  Ursula  in  a  languid  voice,  "  that  I  need 
more  than  just  Eugenie  in  my  present  condition. 
I  dare  say  you  don't  know  how  ill  I  was,  but  that 
you  shouldn't  realise  it  is  all  to  the  good ; 
Maud  knows.  One  cannot  go  through  an  im- 
mense strain  and  not  suffer  in  bodily  health. 
Also  there  is  the  question  of  Maud's  own  health. 
I  think  she  needs  a  complete  change,  for  say 
what  you  will,  she  has  never  looked  quite  the 
same  since  last  February." 

This  was  the  first  time  that  the  subject  had 
been  even  hinted  at  in  the  presence  of  the  two 
sisters.  Neither  looked  at  the  other. 

'  You  know,"  continued  Lady  Dorothy, 
"  that  we  have  never  let  the  young  couple  know 
of  the  awful  tragedy  of  my  darling's  death.  I 
thought  it  might  spoil  their  honeymoon,  so  we 
shall  not  say  a  word  about  it  till  they  return 
home.  So  please  don't  mention  it,  Ursula." 

Lady  Dorothy  was  already  using  the  words 
"  we  "  and  "  us  "  very  freely  as  if  she  and  Maud, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  belonged  to  each  other. 

N 


178  TWO  SINNERS 

"  So  you  are  really  going  to  stay  on  at 
Brighton,"  she  continued,  out  of  the  carriage 
window.  "  Such  a  good  plan,  I  think." 

"  Have  you  got  good  lodgings  ?  "  broke  in 
Maud. 

Ursula,  who  had  all  this  time  been  standing, 
her  black  bag  in  her  hand,  looking  through  her 
eyeglasses  at  her  aunt's  face  and  listening  to 
her  remarks,  said,  glancing  at  Maud  : 

"  My  new  lodgings  are  quite  nice  !  " 

"  Really  ?  "  demanded  Maud.  She  was 
standing  up  in  the  carriage.  The  tickets  were 
collected  and  the  train  was  about  to  move. 
"  I  don't  remember  the  street." 

"  Not  on  the  front,"  said  Ursula,  "  but 
quite  nice." 

Maud's  doubting  eyes  searched  hers  and 
Ursula  repeated  "  Quite  nice.  Good-bye,  Aunt 
Dorothy.  Good-bye,  Maud  !  " 

Maud  bent  out  of  the  window  and  clasped 
her  sister's  neck. 

"  God  bless  you,  darling,"  murmured  Ursula, 
and  then  the  train  moved,  and  Maud  saw  Ursula 
standing  on  the  platform  looking  after  them 
erect  and  self-possessed,  even  smiling,  her  grey 
hair,  her  gold  eyeglasses,  conspicuous  under  her 
black  hat. 

But  she  did  not  see  the  solitary  figure  droop- 
ing as  she  left  the  platform,  the  smile  gone. 
Maud  knew  nothing  of  the  nerves  strung  up 
with  the  effort  to  keep  down  a  lump  that  would 
rise  in  the  throat  as  she  went  on  her  lonely 
way. 


FOR  the  first  month  of  their  travel  in  France 
and  Switzerland,  Lady  Dorothy  mourned  for 
Kiddie  at  high  pressure.  She  still  felt  weak 
and  talked  a  great  deal  about  the  future  world — 
but  when  they  descended  into  Italy  and  wandered 
among  the  vines  and  the  rich  autumn  treasures 
of  that  ruined  Parnassus  of  the  world,  her  grief 
lost  its  sting,  her  nerves  recovered  their  old 
vitality  and  she  glided  insensibly  into  a  pleasant 
melancholy  mixed  with  sprightliness.  She  dwelt 
tenderly  upon  the  tragedy  of  loss  and  the  pathos 
of  love  and  never-to-be-forgotten  memories,  and 
at  the  same  time,  she  enjoyed  trying  the  different 
white  wines  of  the  country  and  telling  Maud 
which,  on  the  whole,  she  preferred.  Maud 
smiled  and  encouraged  the  frivolity.  Lady 
Dorothy  had  known  nothing  but  London,  relieved 
in  August  and  September  by  a  visit  to  Perth- 
shire, for  many  a  long  year,  and  it  now  occurred 
to  her  that  she  had  relapsed  into  an  uneventful 
routine  far  too  early  in  her  life.  She  spoke  no 
more  of  going  back  very  soon  and  even  began 
to  propose  staying  abroad  for  the  whole  winter. 

Maud  suggested  that  Ursula  should  join 
them,  but  the  very  notion  of  having  her  "  rival  " 
— as  she  now  mentally  pictured  her — threw  the 
old  lady  into  a  fretful  gloom. 

Ursula^  she  said,  would  be  far,  far  happier 


180  TWO  SINNERS 

doing  good  works  at  Brighton  and  it  was  quite 
the  best  plan  for  her ;  it  was  a  charming  place 
and  suitable,  as  she,  indeed,  had  herself  admitted 
in  her  letters  to  Maud — so  what  on  earth  was 
the  use  of  dragging  her  out  to  Italy  ?  And  so 
the  weeks  drifted  on. 

In  December  they  went  to  Rome,  and  there 
Lady  Dorothy  started  a  habit  of  looking  about 
her  as  if  she  expected  to  see  some  one  she  knew. 
She  was  always  putting  up  her  eyeglasses  and 
staring,  not  at  objects  of  art,  but  at  people. 

"  What  is  it,  Aunt  Dorothy  ?  "  questioned 
Maud.  "  Haven't  you  met  enough  friends 
already  here,  many  more  than  I  imagined  we 
were  likely  to  come  across  in  December  ?  " 

Lady  Dorothy  bridled  and  gave  her  high 
bridged  nose  a  tilt  upward. 

"  All  roads  lead  to  Rome,"  she  said  signifi- 
cantly. 

"  All  the  old  roads,"  said  Maud,  "  but  not 
the  new ;  the  new  roads  lead  to  Chicago." 

Her  remark  irritated  Lady  Dorothy. 

"  I  know  nothing  about  Chicago,"  she  said. 
''  Well,  if  you  insist  on  knowing  whom  I  am  look- 
ing for,  I  am  looking — for  Major  Kames — there ! " 

Maud's  face  turned  so  white  that  her  aunt 
felt  alarmed. 

"I  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  he  is 
here,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "  I  have  never  heard 
anything  of  him  since — that  happened — I  suppose 
nobody  .has — only  I  can't  forget  him — you  see 
I  cared  about  him.  But  I  won't  say  any  more, 
my  dear,  as  you  dislike  the  subject."- 


TWO  SINNERS  181 

Maud  had  by  this  time  recovered  her  self- 
possession.  She  walked  on  by  her  aunt's  side ; 
she  frowned  under  the  brim  of  her  hat — and 
thought  for  the  thousandth  time — What  had 
become  of  Lionel  Kames  ?  Where  was  he  ? 
Had  he  forgotten  her  ?  She  did  not  deserve 
that  he  should  remember  her !  She  did  not 
want  him  to  remember  her  ! 

"  Kiddie  would  have  liked  Rome,"  sighed 
Lady  Dorothy,  still  thinking  of  sad  things. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Maud  that  they  stayed 
so  long  in  Rome  and  that  Lady  Dorothy  was 
willing  to  be  left  at  home  for  an  hour  at  a  time, 
for  her  aunt  could  not  be  induced  to  enter  any 
picture  gallery  or  any  church  or  museum  more 
than  once — "  I  have  seen  it,"  was  her  remark. 
Going  to  look  at  the  same  thing  again  and  again 
was  apt  to  make  people  priggish — but,  of  course, 
Maud  could  do  as  she  liked,  provided  she  did 
not  expect  anybody  else  to  follow  her  example. 

Maud  was  indeed  thankful  to  be  left  alone, 
for  Lady  Dorothy  felt  compelled  to  pass  an 
opinion  on  everything  she  saw.  Perhaps  the 
most  unbearable  remark  she  made  during  the 
whole  of  their  sojourn  in  that  greatest  city  of 
the  world  was  when  they  stood  for  a  moment 
in  the  Museo  Nazionale,  before  the  relief  repre- 
senting the  Birth  of  Aphrodite.  Glancing 
through  her  lorgnon  at  the  divine  girl  gazing  up 
with  a  noble  tender  salutation  to  the  face  of 
one  of  her  attendant  Hours,  Lady  Dorothy  said : 
"  What  a  comical  little  figure,"  and  passed  on. 

Maud  could  at  least  wander  in  peace  in  the 


182  TWO  SINNERS 

official  but  silent  company  of  the  sullen  Eugenie, 
and  feast  her  eyes  over  and  over  again  on  the 
ruined  memories  of  the  past. 

And  what  memories  they  were — were  not 
the  very  stones  of  Rome  saturated  with  human 
blood  ?  From  the  Bacchic  orgies  of  the  Aventine 
through  the  several  sacks  of  Rome  to  the  last, 
that  awful  riot  of  human  devils  under  the  Con- 
stable de  Bourbon,  through  the  butcheries  of  the 
Coliseum,  the  tortures  of  Saint  Angelo,  the 
unlimited  licence  of  nobles,  of  prelates  and  of 
Popes ;  and  all  through  those  ages  of  effort  to 
dominate  and  dazzle  the  world  ran  the  secret 
suffering  of  slaves  and  underlings  and  the 
corruption  of  the  democracy. 

More  than  once  Maud  repeated  to  herself 
those  sinister  words  of  Lionel  Kames  on  the 
night  before  they  parted,  "If  we  really  knew 
ourselves,  we  should  die  of  laughing — or  go 
mad."  Was  that  true  of  Rome  ?  No,  it  was 
not  true,  because  behind  all  this  unforgettable 
gloom  of  Rome  lies  the  thin  pale  streak  of 
spiritual  light,  running  unbroken  from  the 
obscure  and  ancient  worship  of  the  Bona  Dea — 
through  the  supreme  effort  of  Paganism  to  purge 
itself  of  materialism  and  speak  the  language  of 
the  Cross  in  the  mysteries  of  Mithras,  and 
through  the  slow  making  of  the  Mass,  that  final 
and  symbolic  story  of  the  sacrifice  of  God 
Incarnate,  which  lit  the  waiting  world  for  ever 
with  a  strange  glory. 

Rome,  too,  has  had  her  great  law-givers  and 
her  great  organisers,  and  these  few  just  men 


TWO  SINNEES  183 

have  gained  her  the  gratitude  of  Europe.  Rome 
lies  before  us  now  the  dying  Mother  of  the 
western  world.  She  has  for  good  and  for  ill 
made  us  what  we  are. 

All  through  that  winter  Ursula's  letters 
contained  no  complaint  of  loneliness,  not  even 
a  suggestion  of  it.  At  the  end  of  May  one 
letter  mentioned  that  she  found  the  spring  a 
little  trying — but  the  letter  was  otherwise  cheer- 
ful, and  she  mentioned  hearing  a  sermon  on 
Whit  Sunday  at  St.  Cuthbert's  by  Father  Fitz- 
herbert.  She  said  that  he  was  advertised  to  give 
three  lectures  in  Brighton  next  November. 
Stella's  letters  came  irregularly.  During  the 
honeymoon  they  had  been  frequent  but  very 
short,  and  they  were  elevated  in  tone.  In  one 
letter,  longer  than  the  others,  she  had  spoken 
about  realising  the  greatness  and  gloriousness 
of  our  human  nature,  how  the  thought  of  the 
bigness  of  it  all  overwhelmed  her  at  times,  how 
she  was  convinced  that  we  were  all  (especially 
people  who  never  went  to  church)  reaching  after 
the  Divine. 

After  their  return  to  town  Stella  wrote  a 
long  and  enthusiastic  letter  about  the  little  flat 
and  said  that  housekeeping  could  be  done  ever 
so  easily  if  it  was  only  done  with  "  brains." 

In  November  she  mentioned  something  about 
the  expense  of  housekeeping  and  the  "  servant " 
difficulty.  The  following  letter  was  full  of  the 
"  servant "  difficulty,  and  she  remarked  that 
Maud  was  lucky  in  "  being  out  of  all  that." 

In  December  Broughton,  evidently  directed 


184  TWO  SINNERS 

by  Stella,  wrote  to  say  that  Stella  was  dis- 
appointed that  they  were  not  coming  back  to 
town  for  Christmas.  In  February  Stella  asked 
when  Aunt  Dorothy  was  coming  home  and  that 
she  had  been  several  times  to  No.  2,  Brown  Street 
and  found  Mrs.  Jackson  was  not  in  the  best  of 
tempers.  She  had  put  flowers  on  Kiddie's 
grave,  as  she  found  that  those  already  on  the 
grave  were  withered. 

In  spite  of  all  hints,  Lady  Dorothy  decided 
not  to  return  home  till  May,  and  when  May 
came  she  told  Maud  that  she  dreaded  going  back 
to  that  empty  house,  and  that  unless  Ursula 
made  "  objections,"  she  meant  to  spend  the 
summer  in  the  mountains  overlooking  Lugano. 

More  letters  came  from  Stella,  in  one  of  which 
she  mentioned  that  a  small  flat  was  delightful 
of  course,  but  absolutely  impossible  for  purposes 
of  entertaining  and  then  the  "  servant "  diffi- 
culty !  Maud  inquired  after  George's  work. 
Stella  answered  the  question  in  her  next  letter. 
George  was  getting  on  splendidly  with  his  work, 
she  was  sure,  but  experience  had  taught  her 
(and  after  all  there  is  nothing  that  beats  ex- 
perience) it  was  healthier  for  a  man  to  have  an 
entire  change  of  thought  when  he  came  home 
from  work  and  therefore  she  purposely  did  not 
let  him  talk  about  it  when  they  were  alone 
together. 

In  May  Stella  wrote  that  they  were  going  to 
Brighton  for  a  Saturday  and  Sunday  and  she 
hoped  that  she  would  not  find  Ursula  too  much 
annoyed  at  Aunt  Dorothy's  prolonged  stay 


TWO  SINNERS  185 

abroad.  Stella  also  once  wrote  a  long  letter 
about  the  pity  it  was  that  she  had  not  had  the 
advantages  Maud  now  had  of  living  in  Italy — 
the  place  where  you  could  get  the  voice  properly 
trained.  She  also  said  that,  though  she 
thoroughly  appreciated  the  glory  of  scientific 
research  and  all  the  vast  good  that  it  did,  she 
thought  that  if  George  could  invent  something — 
well,  like  "  Lux  " — in  the  chemical  laboratory 
it  would  be  of  infinite  value  to  the  public  and 
bring  in  heaps  of  money  at  the  same  time.  She 
had  no  doubt  but  that  the  inventor  of  "  Lux  " 
was  simply  rolling 

Her  next  letter  was  about  a  private  concert 
at  which  she  had  sung.  Unfortunately  she  was 
out  of  practice  and  had  not  done  herself  justice. 
George,  however,  thought  she  had  done  admirably. 

Meanwhile,  Ursula  stayed  on  in  Brighton 
and  never  asked  the  question,  "  When  are  you 
coming  home  ?  "  She  said  that  for  the  sake  of 
her  health  she  had  left  her  Brighton  lodgings 
and  had  gone  to  a  farm  on  the  Downs.  So 
Maud  satisfied  herself  that,  once  on  the  Downs, 
Ursula  would  get  perfectly  well.  There  was  no 
reason  to  suppose  she  wouldn't. 

The  summer  passed  away  and  Lady  Dorothy 
thought  it  scarcely  worth  while  going  back  till 
the  end  of  September ;  and  in  September,  the 
weather  being  lovely,  she  put  off  their  return 
till  October — because  "  there  was  no  hurry  "  ; 
and  then  October  was  too  fine  to  miss — and 
November  would  be  soon  enough.  They  could 
cross  during  the  first  week.  Maud  saw  looming 


186  TWO  SINNERS 

before  her  the  same  old  question :  What  was 
to  be  done  in  the  long  future  ?  If  only  Lady 
Dorothy  could  have  tolerated  Ursula  and  all 
three  lived  together  in  No.  2,  Brown  Street ! 
But  it  was  clear  to  Maud  that  indifference  to 
Ursula  had  grown  into  absolute  dislike. 

At  last  the  day  was  decided  on  when  they 
should  return  home,  and  Lady  Dorothy  got  so 
far  as  to  write  to  Mrs.  Jackson. 

"What  day  shall  I  tell  Ursula?"  asked 
Maud.  "  She  has  written  to  ask." 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  bound  down  to  to- 
morrow," said  Lady  Dorothy  irritably.  "  It 
depends  upon  the  wreather." 

That  Ursula  should  have  any  "  right "  to 
know  the  precise  moment  when  they  reached 
London  so  as  to  pounce  upon  them  and  claim 
Maud  again  exasperated  the  old  lady. 

"  I  would  rather  you  told  Ursula,"  she  said, 
in  a  businesslike  tone,  "  that  I  shall  ask  her  to 
come  up  to  us — as  soon  as  we  have  rested  from 
the  journey.  Surely  that  will  do.  Nothing  is 
more  fatiguing  than  being  met  at  the  station  by 
people  who  are  quite  fresh  when  one  is  fagged 
out  oneself." 

In  order  to  appear  strictly  reasonable,  she 
directed  Maud  to  forbid  George  and  Stella  meet- 
ing them  at  Charing  Cross,  but  permitted  them 
to  go  to  No.  2,  Brown  Street  to  welcome  the 
travellers  home. 

"  You  must  wire  to  them,  of  course,"  added 
Lady  Dorothy,  "  and  you  can  if  you  like,  wire  to 
Ursula — she  may  expect  it,  and  you  can  put  in 


TWO  SINNERS  187 

your  telegram  that  we  shall  be  glad  to  see  her  as 
soon  as  we  have  had  time  to  breathe." 

The  lines  round  Lady  Dorothy's  mouth  and 
nostrils  tightened  with  annoyance. 

"  Time  to  breathe  !  "  she  murmured  again. 
In  her  mind's  eye  there  was  Ursula  with  her 
grey  hair  and  her  gold  eyeglasses  and  her  bag, 
not  giving  anybody  time  to  breathe !  It  was  a 
surprising  thing  that  Major  Kames  could  have 
liked  Ursula  so  much  !  But  he  was  so  genial. 

Oh,  how  empty  No.  2,  Brown  Street  would 
have  been  if  Maud  had  not  been  there  to  dispel 
the  shadows.  Lady  Dorothy  crossed  the  Channel 
with  an  air  of  enduring  the  inevitable  and  got 
into  the  train  at  Dover  without  expressing  any 
joy  at  being  again  in  her  native  land. 

"  The  crossing  was  not  bad — though  the 
sea  was  choppy,"  she  said.  '  Well,  are  you  glad 
to  be  back  ?  " — she  added  suddenly,  turning  to 
Maud  and  staring  at  her. 

Maud,  taken  aback,  did  not  reply  quite 
coherently. 

"  Are  you  glad  to  be  back,  child  ?  "  repeated 
her  Aunt  Dorothy.  "  Back  in  England." 

"  No,"  said  Maud.    "  Not  altogether." 

Lady  Dorothy  grunted  and  said  nothing 
more. 

When  they  arrived  at  Charing  Cross  that 
misty  November  afternoon,  Maud  found  herself 
standing  up  and  scanning  eagerly  the  platform 
although  she  knew  that  neither  Ursula  nor 
Stella  would  be  there. 

Whom  did  she  expect  to  see?    A  foolish 


188  TWO  SINNERS 

wild  thought  had  flashed  into  her  mind.  Suppose 
— that  "  He  "  had  found  out  that  they  were 
returning  home  and  had  determined  to  speak  to 
her,  even  if  only  to  say  "  Good-bye,"  and  to  tell 
her  that  he  had  forgiven  her  ! 

Among  the  figures  hurrying  to  and  fro  and 
greeting  friends  was  no  familiar  face. 

Jackson  was  there,  of  course,  looking  more 
than  ever  the  pillar  of  immemorial  respectability. 

Maud's  heart  sank.  Why  ?  She  could  not 
tell. 

"  Maud,"  said  Lady  Dorothy,  as  soon  as  they 
had  got  into  the  old  brougham — "  I  wish  there 
were  no  gaps  in  the  world  !  " 


CHAPTER  XVII 

STELLA  looked  even  more  beautiful  than  she  had 
done  a  year  ago.  She  was  now  twenty-three, 
the  age  which  in  Englishwomen  brings  the  soft- 
ness and  bloom  of  youth  to  its  zenith.  A  woman 
may  become  handsomer,  more  attractive  when 
she  is  older,  but  after  twenty-three  she  loses  that 
peculiar  and  entrancing  glow  of  girlhood.  George 
was  evidently  proud  of  his  wife's  appearance, 
but  he  let  slip  all  unconsciously  a  remark  that 
to  Maud  was  flooded  with  significance.  The 
remark  was : 

"  Hasn't  she  made  herself  smart  to  greet 
you  ?  "  Stella  found  it  difficult  and  also  un- 
necessary to  be  tidy  except  for  occasions.  The 
presence  of  a  lover  is  always  an  "  occasion," 
the  presence  of  a  husband  is  a  "  fact"  of  daily 
life,  a  glorious  fact,  of  course.  The  first  meeting 
with  Maud  and  Aunt  Dorothy  since  Stella's 
wedding  day  was  an  "  occasion." 

Under  the  full  glare  of  the  electric  light  in 
the  drawing-room,  Maud  thought  that  George 
looked  thinner  than  he  had  been  a  year  ago 
and  she  thought  she  detected  an  anxious  look 
in  his  eyes. 

"  I  thought  you  were  never  coming  back," 
said  Stella,  as  she  sprang  upon  the  necks  of  her 
relatives  and  then  began  to  look  round  the 


190  TWO  SINNERS 

drawing-room.  Was  she  already  contemplating 
a  musical  At  Home  at  which  she  would  perform  ? 

She  could  scarcely  wait  for  the  usual  exchange 
of  questions  and  answers  that  are  customary 
between  people  who  meet  after  a  long  absence 
in  which  much  of  importance  has  happened. 

"  May  I  have  Maud  to-morrow  ?  "  she  begged 
of  Lady  Dorothy.  "  I  know  that  you  will  be 
deep  in  talk  with  Mrs.  Jackson  for  hours — but 
could  Maud  come  after  lunch — then  you  come 
and  dine  with  us,  Aunt  Dorothy,  now,  do 
promise — do,  do,  do  !  " 

Stella's  eagerness  was  so  great  that  Maud 
surmised  that  she  had  something  of  supreme 
importance  to  communicate  to  her,  and  so  she 
submitted  with  a  good  grace  to  being  taken 
possession  of  on  the  following  day.  The  next 
morning,  she  and  Aunt  Dorothy  went  into  the 
little  back  garden  and  looked  at  Kiddie's  grave 
— it  was  a  ceremony  that  had  to  be  gone 
through  and  it  was  thought  best  to  do  it  between 
breakfast  and  lunch.  It  was  sad  to  think  that 
cats,  which  had  been  forbidden  the  sodden 
grass  and  the  blackened  ivy  during  Kiddie's 
lifetime,  could  now  walk  over  both  ostenta- 
tiously and  even  seat  themselves  upon  the  little 
mound  beneath  which  he  lay  oblivious  in  his 
satin-lined  coffin.  Lady  Dorothy  was,  after  all, 
so  much  taken  up  with  finding  herself  among 
her  old  possessions  and  so  engrossed  with  Mrs. 
Jackson,  that  Maud  was  able  to  start  off  to 
Stella's  flat  without  feeling  that  she  was  leaving  a 
tragedy  behind  her.  By  the  first  post  that  morning 


TWO  SINNERS  191 

a  letter  had  come  addressed  to  her  in  Ursula's 
handwriting.  The  handwriting  was  shaky  for 
Ursula.  Maud  did  not  open  it  at  once ;  some- 
how she  dared  not.  It  seemed  like  the  seal 
placed  on  her  home-coming — she  would  read  it 
later  in  the  morning.  Then  the  morning  had 
passed  and  Maud  said  she  would  read  it  after 
lunch.  Did  it  contain  some  plan  for  the  future  ? 
That  was  what  Maud  dreaded !  What  plan 
could  it  suggest  that  would  not  be  dreary  ? 
After  lunch  Maud  thought  that  she  would  read 
it  on  her  way  to  Stella.  Feeling  like  a  coward, 
she  put  the  letter  -into  her  muff  and  sat  alone  in 
the  old  brougham  with  it  still  unread.  For  the 
moment  she  had  a  right  to  be  entirely  engrossed 
in  Stella — for  Stella  had  some  important  secret 
to  tell  her  alone.  Maud  guessed  what — the 
secret  of  secrets. 

She  rushed  up  the  two  flights  of  stairs  to  the 
flat  and  rang  the  bell.  A  very  dirty  maid  un- 
locked the  door  and  called  out  into  the  darkness 
behind  her — "  Here's  Miss  Monckton,"  and 
switched  on  the  light.  Then  she  looked  Maud 
all  over  with  eyes  of  approbation. 

Maud  walked  in  and  looked  about  her. 
From  an  open  door  emerged  Stella  in  a  crimson 
dressing-gown  very  much  stained  down  the 
front.  Her  hair  was,  however,  done — for  the 
"  occasion,"  and  she  was  smiling  and  delighted 
to  see  her  sister.  "  Clear  away  the  lunch," 
she  called  out  to  the  maid  and  she  drew  Maud 
into  her  bedroom  where  the  electric  light  was 
still  on  and  the  room  in  an  extraordinary  disorder. 


192  TWO  SINNERS 

"  I  knew  you  would  understand  my  not 
being  dressed — as  Aunt  Dorothy  is  coming  to 
dinner — I  thought  I'd  dress  once  and  for  always 
just  before  teatime " 

Maud  looked  round  her.  The  white  painted 
furniture  was  already  chipped  and  bruised  at 
all  the  corners,  and  one  of  the  white  plaster 
cupids  that  held  up  the  mirror  had  been  deprived 
of  his  nose — not  from  the  effects  of  constant 
dusting,  for  both  charming  figures  had  their 
limbs  boldly  accentuated  by  the  accumulation 
of  many  months  of  dust. 

The  pink  curtains  on  the  window  and  pink 
bed-hangings  were  half  off  their  hooks — there 
was  an  indescribable  collection  of  clothes  piled 
up  in  one  of  the  corners  of  the  room,  as  if  it  was 
meant  ultimately  to  serve  as  a  support  for  the 
ceiling.  On  the  toilet-table  were  the  strange 
and  unornamental  bottles  and  boxes  with  con- 
tents of  various  kinds  in  various  states  of  de- 
composition, which  Stella  always  referred  to  as 
"  still  being  useful." 

"  Isn't  it  a  sweet  room  ?  "  said  Stella,  "  but 
just  a  little  untidy  to-day.  I  can't  get  that 
impossible  girl  to  do  anything  properly.  There 
is  not  one  servant  in  a  thousand  that's  trained 
nowadays." 

Having  shown  her  bedroom  as  it  was  in  the 
glory  of  actual  use,  Stella  took  Maud  into  the 
drawing-room, — a  tiny  room  full  of  a  grand 
piano.  She  put  on  the  electric  stove  and  made 
her  sister  sit  on  the  couch  opposite  it.  This 
room  contained  no  pictures,  the  wall-paper 


TWO  SINNERS  193 

provided  sufficient  scope  for  meditation  in  its 
design  of  immense  birds  of  some  tropical  species 
with  blue-green  plumage.  The  square  of  blue 
Axminster  carpet  had  a  stain  on  it  exactly  in 
front  of  the  stove,  as  if  some  one  had  poured 
out  a  libation  of  coffee,  spreading  it  out  with 
a  liberal  hand  as  widely  and  lengthily  as  possible. 
Maud  did  not  know  whether  to  laugh  or  to  cry. 
What  a  home  for  George  Broughton !  Good 
Heavens,  and  with  the  addition  of  a  baby  what 
would  it  be  like  ? 

"  The  room  is  too  small  for  entertaining," 
said  Stella.  "  It's  of  no  use." 

"  If  you  only  hadn't  a  grand  piano ! "  mur- 
mured Maud,  looking  at  that  article  of  furniture. 
Then  she  added,  "  But  you  have  something  to 
tell  me,  Stella,"  and  Maud  touched  her  sister's 
hand.  "  I  hurried  off  after  lunch  as  soon  as  I 
could." 

"  I  couldn't  talk  about  it  before  Aunt 
Dorothy,"  said  Stella,  "  especially  with  George 
there ! " 

'  Yes,"  said  Maud  sympathetically,  "  of 
course." 

"  Well,  the  fact  is,"  said  Stella,  "  that  I  am 
in  awful  straits.  I'll  explain  all  about  it  after — 
but,  to  go  straight  to  the  point  at  once — I  want 
you — if  you  will — and  I  know  you  will — to  see 
if  you  couldn't  get  Aunt  Dorothy  to  allow  George 
something  every  year — without  telling  George." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Maud  aghast, 

"It's  on  George's  account,  not  on  mine," 
continued  Stella,  "  because  I  have  begun  to 

o 


194  TWO  SINNERS 

find  out  that  he  isn't  at  all  strong  and  the  least 
thing  worries  him.  It's  a  great  handicap  for  a 
man  to  be  like  that ;  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Maud, 
he  doesn't,  and  can't,  poor  fellow,  help  me  in 
the  least." 

"  Help  you  in  what  ?  "  asked  Maud. 

"  Help  me  with  the  housekeeping,"  said 
Stella. 

'  Why  on  earth  should  he  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  why  shouldn't  he  ?  "  said 
Stella.  "  Last  spring  I  had  overrun  my  allow- 
ance by  forty  pounds.  He  saw  how  it  wasn't  my 
fault  but  just  the  nature  of  things  and  couldn't 
be  helped,  and  yet  he  was  upset  about  it.  Then 
we  went  down  to  Brighton  to  Ursula  and  I  told 
her.  She  gave  me  forty  pounds.  Now  this 
time  the  same  thing's  happened — I  can't  make 
ends  meet.  I  haven't  told  George  because  I 
want  to  spare  him.  Naturally,  he  is  sensitive 
about  being  able  to  give  me  so  much  less  than 
most  women  expect.  Then  I  can't  myself  ask 
anything  more  from  Ursula,  although  privately, 
Maud,  I  don't  know  what  she  can  do  with  her 
money — as  her  lodgings  must  cost  her  next  to 
nothing." 

"  The  lodgings  where  she  is  now  ?  "  asked 
Maud,  her  heart  growing  heavier  and  heavier. 

"  I  haven't  seen  her  since  she  went  to  that 
farm  on  the  Downs.  I  was  speaking  of  her  other 
lodgings  in  Brighton — a  horrid  street ;  and  then 
she  spends  nothing  on  her  clothes." 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Maud. 

"  Well,  what  is  to  be  done  ?  "  asked  Stella, 


TWO  SINNERS  195 

as  if  the  whole  matter  now  thoroughly  explained 
rested  on  Maud's  shoulders. 

"  Shall  I  come  and — and  put  your  affairs  in 
order  and  see  if  I  couldn't  start  you  again  ?  " 
asked  Maud,  after  a  pause. 

Stella  eyed  her  strangely. 
'  You  assume  that  I  am  not  housekeeping 
properly." 

"  Economical  housekeeping  needs  a  certain 
amount  of  moral  courage,  but  it  would  be  worth 
while  exerting  that  in  order  to  save  George  from 
an  early  grave."  Maud  spoke  with  exasperating 
calmness. 

"  Thanks,"  said  Stella,  "  I'm  not  going  to 
have  poor  George  starved — if  that's  what  you 
mean.  I  have  given  a  standing  order  to  the 
butcher  for  chops.  I  know  it  is  expensive,  but 
then  fresh  meat  is  so  important." 

"  Poor  George !  "  murmured  Maud,  under 
her  breath. 

'  What  I  really  want,  Maud,  don't  mind  my 
speaking  plainly,  is  more  money,  not  advice." 

'  You  ought  to  be  able  to  manage  on  what 
you  have  got,"  said  Maud.  "  I  could  do  it — 
and  give  George  a  new  dinner  every  evening." 

There  came  a  short  silence,  and  both  girls 
stared  at  the  electric  stove. 

'  You  must  remember,  my  dear  Maud,"  said 
Stella  at  last,  in  an  icy  voice,  "  that  you  are 
speaking  to  a  girl  who  has  shown  herself  willing 
to  face  poverty  for  the  man  she  loves.  Except 
for  George's  sake,  I  couldn't  have  gone  through 
with  what  I  have  endured  this  last  eighteen 


196  TWO  SINNERS 

months.  Perhaps  you  don't  understand  what 
love  can  do — I  don't  think  you  can — or  you 
wouldn't  have  behaved  as  you  did  to  Major 
Kames.  You  would  have  either  accepted  him 
or  refused  him  straight  away." 

Stella  leant  back  into  her  corner  of  the  couch, 
feeling  morally  justified  in  saying  what  she  was 
saying.  Maud  had  behaved  disgracefully  to 
Major  Kames  and  yet  no  one  had  been  allowed 
to  blame  her.  Not  a  word  had  ever  been  spoken 
on  the  subject  by  Ursula,  and  even  Aunt  Dorothy 
had  been  extraordinarily  silent  and  forgiving. 
Maud  was  always  the  favourite  with  both  women 
and  had,  therefore,  got  an  exaggerated  opinion  of 
herself. 

Like  George  IV.  with  his  personal  recollec- 
tions of  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  Stella  had 
acquired  the  belief  that  she  had  "  practically  " 
refused  Major  Kames  "  straight  away." 

George  had  for  so  long  told  her  that  she  was 
the  most  beautiful  and  the  most  gifted  woman 
in  the  world  that  it  naturally  followed  that 
Major  Kames  must  have  preferred  her  to  Maud, 
and  had  "  sort  of  proposed "  only  that  she 
would  not  do  him  the  injustice  to  let  him  "  quite 
propose."  Maud  had  angled  for  him  and  then 
jilted  him.  She  had  behaved  disgracefully. 

"  Nothing  that  you  can  say,"  said  Maud, 
in  a  suppressed  voice,  "  would  make  me  realise 
better  than  I  do  now,  how  meanly  I  behaved  to 
Lionel  Kames." 

"  I'm  glad  you  think  so,"  said  Stella.  "  And 
I  really  think  that  the  worry  of  it  affected  Ursula's 


TWO  SINNERS  197 

health.  Last  May  she  was  like  a  skeleton.  She 
pretended  that  she  wasn't  ill  and  was  quite 
vexed  at  my  speaking  of  it.  I  don't  think  she 
is  really  any  better  now,  because  when  I  wrote 
to  ask  she  evaded  an  answer."  Stella's  voice 
was  full  of  moral  conviction. 

"  Don't  think  me  disagreeable,  Maud,"  she 
said,  "  I  merely  want  you  to  see  that  while  you 
are  discussing  my  affairs,  you  must  remember 
that  I  could  discuss  yours — if  I  wanted  to,  only 
I  don't  want  to." 

Maud  did  not  reply — she  could  feel  Ursula's 
letter  in  her  muff — Ursula  like  a  skeleton ! 
Was  that  true,  or  was  it  merely  said  to  emphasise 
.Stella's  sermon  ? 

"  Is  Ursula  seriously  unwell  ?  "  she  demanded. 
"  If  so,  I  ought  to  go  to  her  at  once.  Why 
didn't  you  tell  me  last  night,  Stella  ?  " 

Perhaps  that  letter  contained  the  truth. 
Why  had  she  not  opened  it  ?  She  could  not 
do  so  now  in  Stella's  presence — she  must 
wait. 

"  I  didn't  say  she  was  seriously  unwell," 
said  Stella.  "  I  said  she  looked  a  little  ill  when 
we  were  with  her  and  I  don't  know  that  she  is 
right  yet !  Now  do  you  think  you  could  discuss 
the  question  of  George's  income  with  Aunt 
Dorothy  ?  After  all,  she  has  no  relation  nearer 
than  George  and  he  has  always  been  so  nice  to 
her." 

Maud  pondered.  So  Ursula  was  not  really 
very  ill — only  she  had  been  unwell  enough  to 
want  to  leave  Brighton  and  live  in  the  healthy 


198  TWO  SINNERS 

air  of  the  Downs.    That  she  had  known  before. 
Perhaps  she  was  well  by  now. 

"  Suppose  we  go  through  your  bills  and 
accounts,  Stella,"  said  Maud.  '  When  I  can 
see  exactly  how  you  stand,  it  might  be  possible 
to  talk  to  Aunt  Dorothy." 

Stella's  face  dimpled  and  her  earrings  swayed. 

"  I'll  try  and  collect  some  of  them,"  she 
said,  "  if  you  will  wait  here.  I  have  great  faith 
in  your  practical  wisdom,  Maud.  Your  mind  is 
the  matter-of-fact  kind  that  dwells  naturally 
on  small  details.  Now  mine  doesn't.  Detail 
wearies  me — I  can't  do  with  it — I  want  something 
big  to  handle."  And  she  got  slowly  up  from  the 
couch  and  went  out  of  the  room. 

Maud  could  hear  her  moving  about  the  flat, 
calling  to  the  maid  at  times.  It  sounded  as  if 
the  bills  had  to  be  gathered  up  from  every  corner 
of  the  house. 

So  Ursula  was  as  thin  as  a  skeleton  in  May. 
Was  that  only  said  by  Stella  in  order  to  make  her 
accusation  sharper  ? 

Ursula  had  been  unwell.  But  surely  she 
was  well  again ! 

Maud  had  still  got  her  muff  on  her  knees. 
She  pulled  Ursula's  letter  from  it.  The  writing 
was  shaky.  She  had  noticed  that,  but  Ursula 
might  have  written  in  a  hurry.  She  tore  open 
the  envelope  and  spread  out  the  page  over  her 
muff.  It  was  clearly  her  duty  to  read  the  letter 
without  delay  in  case  there  was  something  in  it 
that  required  an  immediate  answer.  She  began 
reading. 


TWO  SINNERS  199 

"  MY  DARLING  MAUD, 

"  All  this  time  I  have  kept  my  illness 
from  you.  I  knew  you  needed  rest  and  happi- 
ness— after  your  trouble — Besides  you  could  not 
have  done  anything  for  me,  but  have  the  pain 
of  seeing  me  gradually  get  weaker.  I  thank  God 
that  you  have  been  spared  that  and  in  the  most 
natural  way  in  the  world. 

"  I  have  just  got  your  wire.    Dear,  come  to 
me  now,  because  I  think  my  time  is  very  short. 
"  Your  loving  sister, 

"  URSULA/' 

Maud  raised  the  letter  nearer  to  her  eyes — 
it  shook  in  her  hands.  Yet  the  words  were 
there,  there  was  no  way  of  reading  them  any 
differently. 

She  uttered  a  short  cry  and  then  sat  still 
and  tried  to  read  the  letter  yet  once  again. 
Before  she  had  mastered  half  of  it,  she  rose  from 
the  couch,  her  limbs  trembling,  and  she  went  out 
of  the  room  unsteadily. 

"  Stella  !  "  she  called.    "  Stella  !  " 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  replied  Stella,  ap- 
pearing slowly  with  her  hands  full  of  crumpled 
papers. 

'  Have  you  any  money  in  the  house,  Stella  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Stella  promptly. 

Maud  tore  out  her  purse.  She  had  half  a 
sovereign  in  it  and  some  silver.  Her  speech 
came  with  difficulty,  she  spoke  as  if  she  could 
not  breathe. 

"  Ursula  is  very  ill.    I  must  go  at  once  down 


200  TWO  SINNERS 

to  her.  I  have  just  enough  money.  Go  at  once 
to  Aunt  Dorothy  and  explain ' 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  How  have  you 
heard  ?  "  began  Stella. 

"  I  can't  stop,"  cried  Maud,  "  every  minute 
is  precious.  Do  what  I  tell  you,  Stella,"  and  the 
girl  ran  towards  the  hall  door. 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  Stella. 

"  Stop  !  when  Ursula  is  dying  !  "  cried  Maud, 
and  she  fumbled  at  the  door.  She  pulled  it 
violently  open  and  rushed  down  the  stairs. 

Where  was  there  a  taxi  to  be  got  ?  She  ran 
down  the  street.  Thank  God !  there  was  a 
stand. 

"  To  Victoria  Station  for  Brighton,"  she  said. 
It  would  take  her  ten  minutes  to  get  to  the 
station. 

At  the  station  she  called  to  the  porter,  who 
came  to  the  door. 

"  When  is  the  next  train  to  Brighton  ? " 

"  The  express  has  just  gone,"  he  said. 

"  When  is  the  next  ?  " 

"  Not  till  five  o'clock." 

A  whole  hour  to  wait ! 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  day  before,  when  they  had  crossed  the 
Channel,  there  had  been  a  moderate  wind  blowing 
from  the  south-west  and  a  slightly  choppy  sea, 
but  during  the  night  the  wind  must  have  in- 
creased. That  morning,  in  London,  Maud  had 
scarcely  noticed  the  weather.  Her  thoughts 
had  been  too  busy.  Only  when  she  reached 
Stella's  flat  and  she  had  got  out  of  the  carriage 
and  shut  the  door  behind  her,  she  had  felt  a 
cold  gust  catch  at  her  furs  and  blow  them  over 
her  shoulder. 

But  all  her  thoughts  in  the  train  from  Victoria 
to  Brighton  mingled  in  a  sinister  fashion  with 
the  sound  of  the  wind  bursting  angrily  against 
the  carriage-windows.  Ursula  lying  ill  at  Down 
Farm  would  be  listening  too,  to  the  sound  of  the 
wind,  for  there  must  be  a  gale  blowing  in  the 
Channel. 

The  Brighton  station  was  gusty  and  bitterly 
cold  when  she  arrived  on  that  November  evening. 

Maud  twisted  her  furs  closely  round  her  and 
made  for  the  nearest  taxi. 

She  only  vaguely  knew  where  the  farm  was 
where  Ursula  was  staying.  She  knew  that  she 
must  first  take  the  road  to  Rottingdean  and  then 
the  road  to  Newhaven. 

"  There's  a  road  to  the  farm,"  she  said  sharply, 


202  TWO  SINNERS 

for  the  taxi  man's  face  expressed  a  gloomy 
scepticism  when  she  gave  him  the  address. 
"  Doctors  are  going  to  the  farm,  for  there  is 
illness  there,  so  we  must  be  able  to  get  there. 
At  Rottingdean  ask  your  way,"  she  said  with 
a  fierce  look  at  the  man  and  got  into  the  taxi  and 
banged  the  door. 

The  man  grunted  and  began  to  get  his 
machinery  into  action. 

Strange  thoughts  came  swiftly  into  Maud's 
brain  as  they  sped  through  the  narrow  crowded 
streets  towards  Kemp  Town.  In  this  spot  so 
much  had  happened  towards  the  shaping  of  her 
destinies.  To  Maud,  events  seemed  to ' '  happen. ' ' 
She  had,  indeed,  never  deliberately  tried  to  shape 
them.  Her  youth  had  been  a  record  of  "  drift." 
She  realised  just  now  that  if  she  had  believed 
in  the  next  world,  she  would  have  done  nothing 
to  prepare  for  it ;  and  f eeling  certain  only  of 
this  life,  she  had  done  her  best  to  waste  it !  In 
thinking  of  the  past,  it  came  forcibly  to  her  that 
she  had  been  very  diligent  about  small  matters, 
but  that  she  had  never  set  out  to  "  justify  her 
existence."  Justify  it  to  whom  ?  Was  it  not 
easier  to  live  in  the  days  when  human  races 
worshipped  the  sun  ?  They  could  at  least  see 
their  god,  and  though  he  daily  passed  out  of 
their  sight  and  left  them  at  the  mercy  of  the 
powers  of  darkness  till  his  return,  still  return  he 
did  each  morning.  Each  morning  he  rose  trium- 
phant, dispersing  the  gloom  and  terrors  of  the 
night,  and  his  worshipper  lying  prostrate  before 
the  rising  god  could  feel  that  immeasurable 


TWO  SINNERS  203 

mystic  hand  seeking  him  across  the  morning 
mists  and  striking  him  on  the  brow  and  hair 
like  a  sublime  lover. 

The  narrow  gusty  streets  were  soon  passed 
and  the  taxi  turned  up  a  short  wide  street  poorly 
lit  by  lamp-posts,  and  then  it  sped  on  again 
between  another  narrow  unfrequented  row  of 
dingy  houses,  a  mews  and  a  squalid  shop  or  two, 
and  then  they  struck  upon  the  open  road  where 
no  lights  were  to  be  seen  and  where  the  wind 
swept  down  from  the  sea  upon  the  car  and  beat 
against  it. 

What  Maud  had  taken  for  the  roaring  of  the 
sea  was  really  the  roaring  of  the  wind.  What  a 
night  for  Ursula  lying  alone  in  the  solitary 
Down  Farm ! 

On  they  went,  a  glimmer  here  and  there  of 
lights  from  some  house  and  the  blank  line  of  the 
banks  on  each  side  of  her  was  all  that  Maud 
could  see.  She  could  hear  that  they  were 
ascending  a  steep  incline,  for  the  car  raked  wearily 
up  it.  Presently,  they  came  upon  a  group  of 
lights  and  Maud  knew  they  were  entering 
Rottingdean. 

The  car  stopped  dead,  and  she  could  both 
see  and  hear  that  the  driver  was  shouting  a 
question  to  a  man  who  came  out  of  the  little 
low-roofed  inn  and  shouted  back  at  him.  The 
driver  must  have  got  the  information  he  wanted 
for  he  started  again,  turned  inland  abruptly  and 
then  out  again  on  to  a  coast  road,  and  they  were 
again  battling  with  the  elements,  and  on  each 
side  was  pitch  darkness. 


204  TWO  SINNERS 

Peer  as  closely  as  she  would,  Maud  could  see 
nothing  but  the  roadway,  lit  up  by  the  car  lamps, 
and  newly  turned  stony  soil  and  beyond  that — 
nothing ! 

Why  had  Ursula  isolated  herself  from  other 
habitations  when  she  was  so  seriously  ill  ?  If 
it  was  true  that  she  was  dying,  why  did  she  stay 
out  on  these  lonely  downs  ?  Oh,  Ursula,  Ursula  ! 

At  last  the  taxi  came  to  a  dead  stop  and 
Maud  let  down  the  window.  The  man  came 
round  and  spoke  to  her,  his  words  seemed  blown 
about  and  very  sinister. 

"  Here's  the  cart  track  to  Down  Farm,  Miss," 
he  said.  "  It  must  be  the  right  one,  for  they 
said  it  was  a  few  yards  from  those  coastguard 
cottages  what  you  can  see  on  a-head.  But  I 
can't  take  my  car  any  further,  this  'ere  road 
would  knock  it  all  to  pieces." 

Maud  looked  out.  Where  they  stood  a 
narrow  deeply  rutted  track  ran  at  right  angles 
northward. 

"  The  house  is  about  a  stone's  throw  from 
here,  Miss,  so  they  said." 

"  Can't  you  take  the  car  on  the  turf  ?  " 
asked  Maud,  opening  the  door,  but  not  stepping 
out. 

"  The  turf  only  goes  on  a  few  feet  and  then 
there's  stubble,"  said  the  man.  "  I  can't  take 
the  car  on  that.  You'll  have  to  get  out  here, 
Miss,  or  else  go  back." 

Maud  got  out  slowly.  Her  furs  were  blown 
furiously  round  her — her  skirts  clung  to  her 
ankles.  No  house  was  visible — she  stared  along 


TWO  SINNERS  205 

the  narrow  track  for  a  few  yards  and  then  saw 
stretching  beyond  that  empty  darkness.  She 
felt  thankful  that  she  was  in  England  and  not 
abroad  in  such  a  situation.  She  must  gather 
all  her  courage  together  and  brave  it  out.  She 
looked  in  her  purse — and  gave  the  man  his  fare. 

"  Shall  I  wait  ?  "  he  asked,  "  and  see  if  you 
come  back,"  for  he  was  half  ashamed  of  letting 
her  go  alone  into  the  black  night. 

Maud  seized  the  offer  at  once.  '  Wait  for 
me  a  quarter  of  an  hour  just  in  case — I  am  wrong 
— and  there  is  no  house,"  she  said.  "  Here  is 
three  shillings — it's  all  I  have  with  me.  Promise 
faithfully  you'll  wait." 

"  Oh,  I'll  wait,"  said  the  man.  "  I'll  take 
out  a  light  to  guide  you  a  little  way.  I'd  come 
with  you,  but  I  daren't  leave  my  car." 

"  Good  night,"  said  Maud. 

The  man  said  good  night  and  took  off  one  of 
his  lights,  and  Maud  saw  Mm,  as  she  once  turned, 
an  unsteady  black  figure  holding  the  lamp,  the 
great  flickering  fan  of  brilliance  in  front  of  him 
getting  fainter  and  fainter  as  it  reached  her. 
It  was  something,  at  least,  to  know  that  he  was 
there  behind  on  the  main  road.  And  then 
there  was — Ursula — -poor  darling  Ursula  waiting 
for  her  at  the  end  of  the  darkness.  Urged  by 
this  thought,  she  stepped  out  boldly  almost 
blown  along  by  the  wind  until  she  reached  the 
utmost  fringe  of  the  light  beyond  which  lay 
the  darkness.  Then  she  stumbled  along,  almost 
running.  She  could  have  cried  wi th  fear,  only  that 
Ursula — dear  Ursula,  was  surely  there — needing 


206  TWO  SINNERS 

her — expecting  her — wondering  why  she  did  not 
come  !  In  a  few  seconds  she  saw  in  front  of  her  a 
small  dark  obj  ect.  It  was  the  farm !  What  a  wel- 
come sight !  It  made  her  run  all  the  faster,  full 
of  hope  now — she  seemed  almost  to  be  lifted  on 
the  wings  of  the  wind.  It  was  the  farm — there 
was  a  light  in  one  of  the  windows  !  There  would 
be  Ursula  !  Here  was  a  little  gate  !  She  pushed 
her  way  through  and  it  banged  violently  with 
the  wind.  She  could  see  that  the  house  was  low 
and  square,  and  that  the  door  was  in  the  middle, 
and  that  there  was  a  single  step  up  to  it.  She 
searched  for  a  knocker  or  a  bell  with  her  hand, 
she  felt  a  knocker  and  rapped  it  heavily  on  the 
door.  She  knocked  again  and  again.  It  seemed 
an  age  while  she  waited  in  the  cold,  and  with  the 
wind  tearing  at  her  hat  and  whipping  at  her 
skirts,  making  her  ankles  sting  with  cold.  Would 
Ursula  come  out  of  her  room  and  greet  her,  was 
she  well  enough  to  do  that  or  would  she  be 
lying  in  bed  in  the  candle-light  ?  Maud's  heart 
beat.  The  door  opened,  a  light  flickered  inside. 

"  Is  this  Down  Farm  ?  "  asked  Maud. 

A  nurse,  a  simple-looking  quiet  girl,  held  the 
door  open.  '  Yes,  yes." 

No  further  words  were  necessary.  She  did 
not  see  the  curious  expression  on  the  nurse's 
face  as  she  caught  at  the  door  to  prevent  it  from 
banging  and  held  it  open  for  Maud  to  pass  within. 

Maud  entered  the  narrow  hall  and  stood 
eagerly  waiting  till  the  door  was  shut  and  bolted. 
"  How  is  Miss  Monckton  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  nurse  turned  away  without  speaking  and 


TWO  SINNERS  207 

went  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  Maud  followed. 
At  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  she  turned  again  and 
said,  "  I  am  afraid  the  letter  never  reached  you 
by  the  first  post  this  morning,  Miss  Monckton." 

The  pulses  in  Maud's  head  began  to  beat 
violently. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  and  her  lips  were  so  dry 
that  even  that  monosyllable  was  difficult  to 
pronounce. 

The  nurse  looked  astonished. 

11  I'm  afraid,  Miss  Monckton,  it'll  be  a  great 
shock  to  you.  You  won't  have  realised  how 
very  ill  Miss  Monckton  was.  She  passed  away 
this  morning." 

Maud  put  out  her  hand  and  touched  the 
wall,  for  she  felt  dazed  and  uncertain  where  she 
was. 

"  She  was  longing  so  much  to  see  you,  but 
we  never  thought  the  end  was  so  near,"  said 
the  nurse.  :e  The  doctor  himself  thought  that 
she  might  live  another  week  or  ten  days." 

"  She  expected  me  this  morning  ?  "  gasped 
Maud. 

'  Yes,  Miss,  and  we  couldn't  think  what  had 
happened — whether  you  had  missed  your  train. 
We  sent  a  wire  this  afternoon — to  you — not 
knowing  what  to  do.  But,  of  course,  it  missed 
you  !  It  was  while  she  was  still  speaking  of  you 
— that  the  end  suddenly  came." 

Maud  leaned  against  the  wall  and  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands. 

"  Don't  grieve  too  much,  Miss,"  said  the 
nurse,  taking  her  arm.  "  Come  and  see  her, 


208  TWO  SINNERS 

she  is  so  peaceful ;   it  will  help  you  to  bear  it 
when  you  see  how  happy  she  is." 

Together  they  went  stiffly  and  slowly  up  the 
stairs.  At  the  top  were  two  shabby  narrow 
doors,  one  looking  each  way.  The  nurse  put 
out  her  hand,  turned  a  key  and  led  Maud  into  a 
low-ceilinged  cottage-bedroom.  The  blinds  were 
drawn  and  a  candle  burned  on  the  little  dressing- 
table.  On  an  iron  bedstead  in  the  farthest 
corner,  by  the  fireplace,  in  which  only  scattered 
ashes  remained,  lay  a  motionless  form  under  the 
quilt.  In  the  shadowy  candle-light,  Maud  saw 
her  face,  very  thin  and  white  and  small,  but 
relaxed  into  the  placitude  of  death.  Is  there 
no  way  of  reaching  out  to  speak  to  the  souls 
whom  we  have  neglected,  whom  we  have  allowed 
to  suffer  alone  ?  Is  there  no  way  of  asking 
pardon,  no  way  of  telling  them  of  our  remorse  ? 
Is  there  no  forgiveness  of  sins  ? 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MAUD  found  herself  being  led  out  of  the  room 
again  into  the  bare  chilly  passage.  She  was 
dry-eyed,  but  shivering  from  head  to  foot.  The 
nurse  closed  the  door  of  the  bedroom  and  locked 
it  again.  Across  the  tiny  landing  a  door  stood 
a  little  way  open.  That  was  Maud's  bedroom. 
The  nurse  took  her  in  and  helped  her  to  take  off 
her  things.  This  was  done  in  silence,  and  then 
they  went  downstairs  to  the  sitting-room.  '  You 
must  eat  some  supper,"  said  the  nurse,  and  she 
looked  anxiously  into  Maud's  face. 

There  was  a  fire  burning  and  a  white  china 
lamp  on  the  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  By 
the  side  of  the  fire  was  a  stiff  old-fashioned  arm- 
chair with  a  high  back,  and  close  beside  it  against 
the  wall  a  little  narrow  table  covered  with  books. 
Under  the  table,  on  the  floor,  was  a  workbasket 
so  familiar  to  Maud  that  it  made  her  heart 
stand  still.  Was  Ursula  really  dead  ?  Could 
it  be  possible  ?  What  was  "  death  "  ?  What 
did  it  mean  ?  On  the  other  side  of  the  fire  was  a 
long  lean  sofa  covered  with  brown  oilcloth,  and 
on  the  back  was  a  striped  woollen  antimacassar. 
Maud  sat  down  on  the  sofa.  Later  she  would 
try  to  think  coherently,  for  there  would  be 
business  to  do  and  the  last  services  for  Ursula. 
She  must  not  give  way.  She  shaded  her  eyes 

p 


210  TWO  SINNERS 

with  her  hand  and  sat  perfectly  still.  She  could 
hear  sapper  being  laid  for  her  and  she  listened 
mechanically  to  the  storm  without.  All  these 
noises  belonged  to  the  world  in  which  she  lived, 
the  world  of  her  sight  and  touch,  the  world 
which  one  day  would — for  her  too — cease  to 
exist.  Was  that  true,  or  was  there  any  hope 
of  a  future  life  where  wrongs  could  be  made 
right  and  the  crooked  paths  made  straight, 
hopes  fulfilled  and  the  longings  of  the  human 
heart  for  righteousness  and  peace  be  satisfied 
at  last  ? 

Suddenly  she  noticed  that  the  nurse  was 
speaking  in  her  ear  and  urging  her  to  try  and 
eat  some  supper,  using  the  argument  that  "  Miss 
Monckton  would  be  distressed  if  she  knew  that 
her  sister  was  neglecting  herself  in  her  sorrow ; 
that  Miss  Monckton  was  the  best  and  kindest 
patient  she  had  ever  had." 

Maud  rose  at  once  and  sat  down  to  the  table. 
Food  was  painful  to  swallow,  but  it  had  to  be 
done  and  could  be  done. 

Later  on,  Maud  wrote  letters  and  telegrams 
that  were  to  be  sent  off  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning,  and  as  she  wrote,  she  could  hear  half- 
consciously  only,  that  the  wind  was  getting 
louder  and  more  insistent.  The  long  night  had 
to  be  got  through — somehow.  Maud  dreaded 
going  up  to  her  room,  but  that  also  had  to  be 
done.  She  had  the  shock  of  seeing  the  nurse 
bring  into  her  bedroom  garments  that  had 
belonged  to  the  dead — a  dressing-gown,  night 
things  and  bedroom-slippers — for  Maud  had 


TWO  SINNERS  211 

nothing  of  her  own  with  her.  Toilet  things  too 
were  brought  to  her  from  that  locked  room, 
and  finally,  two  or  three  books  of  devotion  from 
beside  that  silent  bed,  and  a  black  manuscript- 
book  fastened  by  an  elastic  band.  Each  time 
the  nurse  came  in  or  went  out  a  puff  of  smoke 
was  blown  down  the  chimney  into  the  room  by 
the  wind.  Then  the  nurse  poked  the  fire  and 
heaped  on  more  coals. 

She  asked  if  Maud  would  like  the  lamp  from 
the  sitting-room,  and  Maud,  not  knowing  or 
caring  what  happened,  said  "  Yes,"  and  the  lamp 
was  brought  to  her  and  placed  on  the  toilet 
table  near  the  window. 

"  I  forgot  to  tell  you,  Miss,"  said  the  nurse, 
as  she  moved  to  the  door,  "  that  a  message  has 
been  sent  to  Father  Fitzherbert." 

Maud  stared  at  her  with  widened  eyes.  "  Mr. 
Fitzherbert  was  to  come  to-morrow  to  give  poor 
Miss  Monckton  the  sacrament.  She  was  so 
much  looking  forward  to  your  being  with  her 
for  that.  I  sent  a  message  to  Mr.  Fitzherbert 
that  she  had  passed  away  unexpectedly  and 
suddenly,  and  not  knowing  his  address  at 
Brighton — I  sent  it  along  with  a  letter  to  Major 
Kames  at  the  Princes  Hotel." 

Here  the  nurse  paused,  but  Maud  said  nothing. 
'  We  can't  think  why  Major  Kames  never 
came  this  morning.  Miss  Monckton  expected 
him  just  as  she  expected  you,  Miss.  Just  a 
few  minutes  before  she  died,  she  felt  it  coming — 
I  know  she  did,  I  was  standing  by  the  bed  doing 
her  hair  and  we  were  talking  of  you,  Miss.  She 


212  TWO  SINNERS 

called  for  you  and  for  him — as  if  you  were  both 
just  outside  the  door,  and  then  fell  back  on  the 
pillow — unconscious — until  the  end  came.  But 
he  knows  now  that  she  is  gone." 

Maud  still  stood  by  the  fire  stiffly  and  said 
nothing, 

"  You  look  so  white,  Miss,"  said  the  nurse. 
"  Had  I  better  fetch  you  a  little  brandy  ?  You 
see  you've  been  through  such  a  lot." 

"  No  !  "  said  Maud.  "  Thank  you,  I  need 
nothing — nothing  !  Good  night." 

The  nurse  left  the  room  closing  the  door 
behind  her  sharply,  for  the  latches  of  the  house 
were  old  and  shaky  and  the  wind  was  pulling 
at  windows  and  doors  as  if  to  wrench  them  from 
their  fastenings. 

When  the  nurse's  step  had  ceased  to  sound 
upon  the  creaking  stairs,  Maud  turned  round  to 
the  bed  and  flinging  herself  down  on  her  knees, 
gave  way  to  a  paroxysm  of  grief  which  had  no 
relief  in  tears.  Only  she — she  who  should  have 
done  most — had  neglected  the  dead — others 
had  done  their  part !  How  long  she  lay  moaning 
as  if  in  acute  physical  pain  she  did  not  know, 
but  all  the  time  the  wind  battled  with  the  house, 
and  to  Maud,  the  whole  world  seemed  in  conflict. 
There  was  pain  in  every  throb  of  nature  and 
everywhere  voices  speaking  of  death.  Would 
that  death  would  come  to  her — of  what  use  was 
her  life  ?  It  was  nothing  but  a  little  foolish  talk 
about  futile  things  and  would  end  in — silence. 

She  could  hear  an  old  clock  below  striking 
with  crazy  but  vibrating  notes — twelve !  She 


TWO  SINNERS  213 

rose  from  the  bed.  The  fire  was  getting  low — 
she  put  on  more  coals.  She  took  off  her  shoes 
and  put  on  the  black  bedroom-slippers  that 
had  been  Ursula's.  Then  she  slowly  took  off 
her  dress  and  put  on  the  dressing-gown.  She 
dared  not  wear  Ursula's  night-dress,  it  would 
be  a  horrible  profanation.  She  drew  a  large, 
old,  battered  arm-chair  to  the  fire  and  sat  down 
before  it  shivering  with  the  cold  and  listened  to 
the  storm. 

The  wind  had  some  devilish  cruelty  in  it. 
After  a  terrific  roar  it  dashed  off  wailing  to  the 
distant  weald — out  of  hearing,  and  then  the 
night  seemed  to  drop  into  silence — but  such  a 
silence — it  breathed  of  coming  danger.  The 
wind  had  secretly  gone  back  to  the  sea  and  had 
hidden  itself — it  was  coming  again  from  afar  off. 
Maud  listened  for  it,  her  head  buried  in  her 
hands,  waiting  and  dreading.  It  was  coming 
again — yes,  it  was  coming.  Maud  strung  up 
her  nerves  to  bear  it  when  it  did  come.  It  was 
coming.  With  a  sudden  crash  it  came,  and 
the  very  spirit  of  the  storm  hung  roaring  at  the 
window.  It  strove  madly  to  get  in,  raving  at  the 
keyhole,  hooting  down  the  chimney  in  a  hoarse 
ominous  voice,  and  then,  its  passion  dying  out, 
it  fled  back  again  to  the  weald,  muttering  and 
moaning  as  it  fled — smothering  its  cries  and 
checking  its  breath,  panting  and  groaning  into  a 
deadly  silence — till  it  should  come  again — from 
the  sea. 

Maud  put  out  her  hand  and  grasped  at  the 
books  that  had  belonged  to  Ursula  and  that  lay 


214  TWO  SINNERS 

at  the  foot  of  the  white  lamp.  She  opened  first 
one  and  then  the  other,  turning  over  the  pages. 
She  came  upon  a  passage  underlined  : 

"  Incline  Thine  ear  unto  me,  oh  Lord,  for  I 
am  poor  and  in  misery." 

Maud  turned  over  the  other  leaves  with  a 
feverish  care,  as  a  penitent  might  search  the 
pages  of  a  long  confession  of  his  sins — unwilling 
to  miss  one — anxious  to  drink  the  cup  of  his 
humility  to  the  dregs. 

She  could  find  no  other  passage  underlined. 
But  that  solitary  one  contained  the  cry  of  a 
life-time !  Maud  took  the  black  manuscript- 
book  in  her  hands  and  began  to  unfasten  the 
elastic  band.  The  pages  were  full  of  Ursula's 
handwriting.  Maud's  heart  beat  almost  to  suffo- 
cation !  Here  would  be  in  full,  written  down, 
sentence  by  sentence,  the  details  of  Ursula's 
sufferings  !  Had  the  diary  been  begun  when  she 
first  felt  the  weakness  of  her  illness  or  had  she 
begun  it  because  as  the  month's  dragged  on  she 
felt  more  and  more  solitary  ?  To  read  it  was 
part  of  Maud's  penance.  To  close  these  pages 
would  be  to  refuse  to  bear  part  of  her  punish- 
ment. 

Most  of  the  entries  merely  recorded  rain  or 
sunshine,  books  begun  or  finished,  a  visit  from 
a  friend  or  letters  received — from  Maud.  But 
there  were  some  longer  entries  here  and  there, 
and  it  was  these  that  Maud  searched  with 
passionate  attention. 


TWO  SINNERS  215 

"  April  10. — I  thought  that  I  should  not 
feel  lonely,  but  I  do  now  that  the  days  have 
drawn  out.  In  the  winter  one  can  draw  the 
curtains  and  sit  by  the  fire  absorbed  in  books, 
but  now  in  the  small  shabby  room  looking  out 
on  a  street,  with  the  cold  grey  light  of  a  spring 
evening  lengthening  hour  after  hour  I  feel 
lonely.  I  can  hear  my  landlady  at  the  street 
door  gossiping  with  her  husband  and  neighbours. 
At  last  the  light  dwindles  and  the  lamps  are  lit 
in  the  street  and  I  can  light  my  gas  and  draw 
down  the  blinds,  thankful  that  darkness  has 
come. 

'  The  few  friends  I  have  in  Brighton  take  for 
granted  that  I  live  here  because  I  want  to  be 
in  the  neighbourhood  from  which  I  draw  little 
girls  who  come  to  my  class  on  Saturday  after- 
noons. They  would  not  come  to  me  if  I  lived 
on  the  Parade.  They  are  not  afraid  to  come 
here,  they  live  close  by.  No  letter  to-day  from 
Maud  and  I  had  expected  one." 

"  April  28. — I  ought  not  to  be  depressed, 
because  since  she  left  me  I  have  saved  out  of 
my  income  nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds. 
This  saving  gives  me  something  to  live  for  while 
she  is  away.  I  have  the  passion  of  a  miser  in 
me  for  her  sake.  She  cannot — as  I  can — endure 
sordid  surroundings — that  is  partly  her  youth — 
partly  her  love  of  all  that  is  beautiful  and  orderly. 
But  I  ask  myself  sometimes  whether  there  is 
not  some  selfishness  behind  all  this  saving  for 
Maud,  because  all  the  time  I  picture  her  spending 


216  TWO  SINNERS 

it — with  me,  while  what  she  needs  is  a  life,  not 
with  me,  but  with  husband  and  children,  a  full 
life  such  as  every  woman  should  have.  God 
grant  it  to  her." 

"  May  15. — My  class  of  little  girls  on  Saturday 
afternoon  is  growing  bigger.  I  think  I  under- 
stand children.  I  know  I  can  speak  to  them  as 
I  can't  to  grown  persons.  But  beyond  teaching 
them  how  to  sew  and  how  to  mend  their  clothes, 
I  have  done  little.  Although  they  are  all  at  the 
Council  school  their  ignorance  is  amazing,  and 
they  care  to  hear  of  nothing  except  stories  of 
other  children.  So  I  have  to  work  my  instruction 
in  in  that  way.  We  begin  with  tea,  and  that 
is  a  never  exhausted  source  of  pleasure  to  them. 
It  gives  an  air  of  social  dissipation  to  the  work, 
without  which,  I  doubt  if  I  could  induce  them 
to  leave  the  streets." 

"  May  21. — I  am  afraid  that  Stella  and 
George  were  shocked  at  these  rooms.  The  only 
comfort  is  that  they  got  some  good  golf  on 
Saturday  and  a  long  walk  on  Sunday  in  the 
lovely  sunshine.  Then  they  went  back  to  town. 
After  all  they  only  had  one  evening  in  these 
cramped  lodgings,  all  the  rest  of  the  time  they 
were  out  of  doors.  George  looked  less  tired  on 
Sunday  evening  I  thought. 

"  That  forty  pounds  I  gave  to  Stella  out  of 
my  savings  for  Maud,  I  gave  grudgingly,  I  am 
afraid.  I  blame  myself,  now  that  it  is  too  late, 
for  having  done  so  little  to  strengthen  Stella's 


TWO  SINNERS  217 

character.  It  is  so  hard  to  struggle  with  a  mind 
that  naturally  sees  little  beyond  its  immediate 
wants.  Still  that  was  the  work  that  was  given 
me  to  do  and  I  failed  ! 

"  Did  I,  after  all,  do  anything  to  help  Maud  ? 
I  begin  to  believe  that  I  have  failed  all  through. 
Maud  was  so  anxious  to  learn  and  so  lovable 
that  I  was  deceived  into  thinking  that  I  was  doing 
my  task  well. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  one  hot  August  after- 
noon on  the  east  coast  when  Maud  was  about 
six  years  old  and  playing  with  other  little  ones. 
I  had  taken  tea  down  to  the  beach,  it  was  over 
and  the  other  children  sprang  up  eager  to  romp 
again.  I  reminded  Maud  of  '  saying  thanks.' 
Instead  of  being  impatient  with  me  she  smiled 
in  the  sweetest  way  and  joining  her  hands  bent 
over  them  for  a  moment  with  a  rapt  expression 
of  grateful  prayer.  Then  she  sprang  up  and 
joined  her  companions.  I  could  have  caught 
her  to  my  heart  with  admiration  and  joy.  But  so 
soon  her  father's  influence  drove  away  all  that 
beautiful  trust  in  a  Divine  Spirit — and  I  could 
do  nothing.  I  have  so  little  moral  courage. 
I  cannot  lead — in  the  presence  of  opposition. 
I  feel  crushed  and  helpless.  Sometimes  I  am 
absolutely  tongue-tied  and  cannot  express  the 
simplest  ideas  with  any  effectiveness.  ...  I 
have  a  sort  of  mental  stammer.  In  the  presence 
of  children  I  lose  this.  I  did  not  suffer  from  it 
with  Lionel,  I  felt  a  different  woman.  His 
generous  sympathy,  his  unruffled  good  nature 
made  me  feel  at  ease.  It  seems  to  me  now 


218  TWO  SINNEKS 

incredible  that  there  could  have  been  any  time 
when  I  did  not  appreciate  him,  when  I  saw  only 
little  defects  in  breeding  and  thought  he  was 
worldly.  Afterwards,  everything  he  did  and 
said  seemed  to  me  to  have  its  worth,  as  character- 
istic of  him  and  of  nobody  else.  Being  a  coward 
by  nature,  the  '  protection '  of  his  presence  had 
in  that  short  time  become  a  necessity  to  me. 
Where  is  he  now  ?  He  is  constantly  in  my 
thoughts,  but  I  cannot  picture  him  anywhere. 
Is  he  at  Orpenden  ?  " 

"  June  2. — The  hot  weather  exhausts  me.  I 
used  not  to  feel  heat,  but  I  think  this  weakness  that 
has  been  creeping  over  me  lately  accounts  for  it. 

"  Yesterday  I  gave  my  little  girls  a  treat. 
We  drove  to  the  Dyke  in  the  morning  and  spent 
the  whole  day  in  the  open  air.  I  had  taken  food 
with  me — including  buns  and  oranges.  I  sat 
and  looked  at  the  great  weald  stretching  before 
us  while  the  children  played  about.  I  think 
they  were  very  happy  and  I  ought  to  have  been 
but  for  the  haunting  knowledge  that  Maud  dreads 
coming  back  to  me.  She  has  never  told  me, 
but  I  know !  What  can  I  do  ?  If  only  she 
could  have  loved  Lionel !  Not  to  love  him 
would  be  the  harder  task  to  me  !  The  thought 
of  Maud,  and  Maud  dreading  a  future  alone  with 
me,  made  the  sunny  weald  look  full  of  trouble. 
I  could  not  shake  off  the  trouble  even  when  we 
were  driving  home  and  I  was  telling  the  children 
a  story  to  keep  them  quiet.  The  air  was  getting 
a  little  chilly  when  we  turned  into  the  London 


TWO  SINNERS  219 

Road.  As  we  passed  the  old  square  grey  house 
that  is  said  to  be  haunted,  the  windows  were 
lit  up  by  the  setting  sun.  The  children  stared 
with  all  their  might  as  we  drove  by,  looking 
back  at  the  house,  glad  and  yet  awed  to  think 
it  had  an  evil  reputation." 

"  June  13. — At  last  I  had  the  courage  to  go 
to  a  doctor.  I  wish  I  had  gone  before,  but  I 
grudged  the  money.  It  is  indigestion  that  is 
the  matter  with  me.  I  weigh  now  with  all  my 
clothes  on  under  eight  stone.  I  have  some  sort 
of  digestive  medicine  to  take  and  am  to  go  and 
see  the  doctor  again  in  a  fortnight.  I  believe 
that  I  should  get  well  at  once  if  I  could  stay  on 
the  Downs  for  a  short  time,  but  it  would  mean 
giving  up  my  classes  and  all  the  other  work 
that  I  have  gathered  round  me.  A  kind  letter 
from  Maud  makes  me  already  feel  better,  and 
I  have  as  yet  only  taken  one  dose  of  the  medicine." 

"  June  30. — The  doctor  advises  me  to  go  to 
Down  Farm  for  the  summer.  I  long,  myself, 
for  the  Downs,  but  to  give  up  my  class  as  well 
as  my  other  duties  now  when  I  am  free  to  do 
what  I  like,  seems  so  selfish,  because  when  Maud 
comes  back  we  may  not  even  live  at  Brighton. 
And  yet  Maud  must  be  my  first  consideration. 
I  must  get  well  for  her  return.  It  will  be  so 
dismal  for  her  to  come  back  and  find  me  thin 
and  weak  and  useless.  I  shall  carry  out  the 
doctor's  advice  and  I  must  break  the  news  to 
my  class  on  Saturday.  I  dread  telling  them— 


220  TWO  SINNERS 

it  seems  like  breaking  faith  with  them,  they  have 
stuck  to  me  so  loyally — and  I  believe  happily." 

"  July  25. — There  could  be  no  kinder  people 
than  these  farm  people.  An  old  man  and  his 
wife  belonging  to  the  old  yeoman  class — some 
of  our  best  English  blood — their  family  have 
farmed  here  for  three  hundred  years.  They 
have  all  the  fine  feeling  of  gentry  with  the 
simplicity  of  peasants.  The  son  is  slow  and 
methodical  and  full  of  humour,  and  the  niece 
who  waits  on  me  is  a  good-hearted  girl  with  a 
magnificent  contralto  voice,  but  alas — no  ear ! 
The  Vicar  has  come  to  see  me,  a  kind  sensible 
man,  and  his  wife  came  with  him.  I  like  her  too, 
very  fresh  and  unworldly — but  I  think  they 
suffer  from  want  of  any  society  of  their  own 
class.  I  gathered  so  from  her. 

"  Is  it  because  I  am  idle  here  and  have  too 
much  time  to  think  of  myself  that  I  feel  no  better 
in  health  ?  The  sight  of  food  nauseates  me  ! 

"  My  happiest  time  is  in  the  mornings  when 
I  take  my  deck-chair  outside  just  to  the  corner 
of  the  house.  There  I  can  sit  on  a  dry  bit  of 
farm  road  close  to  the  great  wheat-field  that 
stretches  to  the  south  and  beyond  which  lies 
a  rim  of  green  and  then  the  opal  sea  as  far  as  the 
eye  can  reach. 

:<  This  morning  I  heard  a  slight  movement 
near  me  and  out  of  the  short  yellow  forest  of 
wheat  a  speckled  hen  stepped  on  to  the  grassy 
edge.  She  was  surprised  at  finding  herself  so 
near  me.  She  stood  on  one  foot,  fixing  me  with 


TWO  SINNERS  221 

a  hard  anxious  eye.  Finding  that  I  was  not 
harmful  she  put  down  her  foot  and  glanced  at 
the  ground.  Then  she  began  pecking  here  and 
there  slowly  and  sinuously,  moving  into  the  road, 
putting  down  her  thin  feet  carefully,  and  looking 
closely  at  every  speck  on  the  stony,  chalky 
ground.  Every  now  and  again  she  shot  a  keen 
glance  up  at  me.  I  had  nothing  to  offer  her 
and  she  passed  on  and  went  towards  the  house. 
I  saw  her  fly  with  a  sudden  shriek  of  determina- 
tion over  the  low  wall  of  the  farm  garden  that 
rises  abruptly  uphill  at  the  back  of  the  house. 
If  I  felt  better  in  health  I  should  get  so  much 
pleasure  out  of  the  quiet  movements  of  Nature 
around  me,  but  as  it  is  I  am  grumbling,  grumbling 
because  I  have  to  sit  useless,  and  when  Maud 
comes  back  I  shall  go  to  greet  her,  a  thin,  haggard- 
looking  woman.  One  thing  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  to  do.  If  Aunt  Dorothy  wishes  to 
keep  Maud,  she  shall  keep  her.  It  has  taken 
me  all  this  time  to  see  what  I  ought  to  have 
seen  from  the  first,  that  I  have  no  right  to  keep 
Maud  with  me.  Maud  might,  if  she  liked,  make 
life  cheerful  at  No.  2,  Brown  Street.  As  to  Stella, 
I  should  then  be  able  to  help  her  when  she  failed 
to  make  George's  income  do.  After  all,  if  I 
had  had  a  stronger  moral  nature,  I  might  have 
trained  Stella  into  better  ways.  I  am  responsible 
for  both  girls.  They  had  no  other  guide — and 
what  have  I  done  for  them  ?  " 

"  August  3. — Last  night  I  dreamed  that  Maud 
suddenly  came  into  my  room  and  said :    'Oh, 


222  TWO  SINNERS 

Ursula,  I  could  not  stay  any  longer  away  from 
you!' 

"  Although  I  saw  her,  touched  her,  clasped 
her  in  my  arms,  I  knew  that  '  something  was 
wrong,'  and  behind  my  joy  was  a  strange  and 
secret  anguish.  Was  that  because  for  so  long 
I  have  known  deep  in  my  heart  that  Maud 
cannot  be  happy  with  me  ?  Why  should  she  ? 
I  do  not  doubt  that  she  loves  me — but  she  needs 
husband  and  children — and  I — to  her — represent 
all  that  she  most  dreads  in  life — unfulfilled 
womanhood !  The  love  of  men  has  never  come 
my  way,  this  might  have  made  me  bitter  and 
fanatical,  but  I  have  had  to  be  a  mother  to  Maud 
and  Stella.  I  have  had  the  cares  of  maternity 
and  some  of  the  joys,  and  I  began  those  cares 
so  early  that  I  had  no  time  to  think.  Now  that 
I  have  time  to  think — my  prime  is  past — and  I 
can  be  content  with  little  ! 

"  Poor  Maud,  still  in  the  strength  of  her 
youth  and  beauty,  she  wants  to  live  !  " 

Here  came  a  blank  page  in  the  manuscript. 
Maud  looked  up  from  the  book  for  a  moment 
and  was  conscious  of  the  storm  outside.  The 
body  of  Ursula  lay  in  the  next  room  peacefully, 
as  one  sleeping  her  last  sleep.  No  roaring  of 
the  wind  and  no  cry  for  forgiveness  from  human 
lips  could  reach  her  in  that  far-off  impenetrable 
region  from  which  no  traveller  returns. 


CHAPTER  XX 

"  SEPTEMBER  20. — The  strangest  thing  has  hap- 
pened to-day.  I  forced  myself  to  walk — thinking 
perhaps  that  I  was  letting  my  '  will  to  be  strong  ' 
falter.  I  went  along  the  side  of  the  rutty  farm- 
path  towards  the  cliff.  I  got  nearly  to  the  New- 
haven  Road  and  could  go  no  farther — it  is  only 
about  two  or  three  hundred  yards.  I  could  see 
that  a  passing  motor  had  come  suddenly  to  a 
standstill  on  the  road,  and  the  chauffeur  and 
another  man  were  bending  over  the  engine. 
Something  had  gone  wrong.  I  put  down  my 
camp-stool  and  sat  with  my  face  towards  them. 
As  I  did  so  one  of  the  men  lifted  his  head  and 
looked  round  at  me. 

"  Even  now  it  seems  impossible  to  be  true  ! 
It  was  Lionel  Kames  ! 

"  For  a  moment  he  did  not  know  who  I  was. 
Was  that  because  I  had  grown  so  thin  ?  Then 
I  saw  that  he  recognised  me,  and  straightening 
himself,  he  stared  with  those  large  brown  eyes, 
and  a  sudden  painful  contraction  of  his  face 
showed  me  something  of  what  he  had  suffered 
since  we  last  met. 

'  Lionel ! '  I  called  out — but  I  could  not 
move.  I  was  too  weary.  He  raised  his  hat 
stiffly  and  I  was  afraid  he  was  going  to  turn  away, 


224  TWO  SINNERS 

when  his  whole  face  changed  and  he  came  straight 
up  to  me. 

" '  Are  you  alone  ? '  he  asked.  Oh,  how 
glad  I  was  to  hear  his  voice  again ! 

'  Quite  alone/  I  said,  and  I  suppose  it 
was  my  saying  '  quite '  that  brought  a  strange 
fixed  look  into  his  eyes.  He  thought  that  I 
meant  that  Maud  was  married — or  dead ! 

"  I  said  hastily  '  Maud  is  still  abroad  with 
Aunt  Dorothy/  and  I  struggled  up  on  my  feet. 
The  sudden  shock  of  meeting  him  just  when 
I  was  overcome  by  fatigue  was  too  much  for  me. 
I  thought  the  ground  was  moving.  I  touched 
his  arm  and  felt  him  supporting  me,  encouraging 
me  as  if  I  was  a  child,  in  that  old  genial  manner 
of  his. 

"  By  this  time  his  chauffeur  had  got  the 
engine  to  work — and  Lionel  called  out  to  him 
to  go  a  little  way  along  the  road  and  then  come 
back  and  wait. 

"  After  he  had  made  me  rest  a  few  minutes 
he  took  me  back  to  the  house.  He  has  altered. 
He  looks  older  than  he  did  eighteen  months  ago, 
but  he  looks  also  firmer  in  character,  or  do  I 
think  this  because  I  know  that  it  is  true  ? 

"  I  had  not  meant  to  speak  about  myself, 
but  he  drew  everything  from  me — everything ! 
In  those  few  minutes,  I  emptied  my  heart  of  the 
burden  of  my  illness  and  of  my  loneliness.  I 
couldn't  help  it,  the  consolation  of  having  him 
again  was  so  great.  When  I  reached  this  door 
I  dreaded  saying  good-bye — but  he  did  not 
leave  me,  he  came  in  here  to  this  shabby  little 


TWO  SINNERS  225 

sitting-room.    He  looked  at  nothing,  but  saw 
everything — that  is  like  him. 

"  All  this  time  he  had  never  mentioned 
Maud's  name.  I  wanted  to  question  him  about 
himself,  all  I  dared  ask  was  whether  he  was 
living  at  Orpenden  ?  '  A  man  must  live  some- 
where/ he  replied.  Then  seeing  that  I  was 
hurt,  he  told  me  in  a  rapid  monotone,  as  if  to 
make  what  he  said  as  impersonal  as  possible, 
that  his  headquarters  were  at  Orpenden,  but 
that  he  had  spent  a  year  going  about  to  the 
different  centres  of  labour  in  this  country  to 
learn  at  first  hand  what  the  conditions  were. 
I  suppose  I  remained  standing  because  I  was  so 
much  surprised.  *  Labour,'  Lionel  interested 
in  '  Labour ' ! 

"  '  There  are  two  questions,  Ursula,'  he  said, 
'  that  do  now,  and  will  in  the  future,  absorb 
the  world — labour  and  religion.  Religion  I 
leave  to  you.'  Here  he  smiled  in  his  old  way. 
Then  he  told  me  that  he  was  standing  as  candidate 
for  his  own  Division  at  the  coming  by-election. 
How  amazing ! 

"  I  did  not  know  what  to  say — I  was  so  full 
of  thankfulness  and  pride  in  him.  I  am  afraid 
I  showed  my  emotion,  for  he  moved  away  with 
a  swift  turn  and  said — as  if  he  was  talking  of 
some  one  else — '  An  ordinary  fool  like  myself 
may  drift  on  through  his  thirties  still  dreaming 
that  he  is  a  boy — but  it  takes  a  damned  fool  to 
do  that  when  he  has  passed  forty.' 

"  How  much  lay  behind  that  speech  !  It 
seemed  to  me  splendid  and  pathetic. 

Q 


226  TWO  SINNERS 

"  Then  he  turned  round  again  and  scolded 
me  for  not  sitting  down.  He  took  off  my  hat 
and  placed  me  on  the  sofa,  telling  me  not  to 
slide  off  it — it  is  very  slippery.  He  seized  that 
horrible  striped  wool  antimacassar  from  the 
back  and  spread  it  over  me,  saying  that  it  made 
a '  charming  negligee.' 

"  Was  I  ever  going  to  see  him  again  ?  I 
could  not  ask  the  question !  Why  should  he 
come  and  see  a  dull  old  maid  ? 

" '  I  can  see  you  haven't  been  to  confession 
for  a  long  time  and  are  getting  slack,'  he  said. 
*  I  shall  be  obliged  to  come  and  see  how  you  are 
behaving.  No,  I  shan't  tell  you  what  day — I 
shall  come  upon  you  unawares — and  shall  pro- 
bably catch  you  bathing  the  farm  baby  and 
saying  that  you  are  doing  it  for  the  sake  of 
exercise ' 

"  I  told  him  that  there  wasn't  a  farm  baby. 
He  said  he  was  glad  to  hear  it — and  then  he 
went,  saying — '  I  shall  come  soon.' 

"  It  is  so  unselfish,  so  forgiving  of  him  after 
all  that  has  happened.  He  looks  like  a  worldling, 
and  to  those  who  don't  understand  him,  perhaps 
he  talks  like  one,  but  all  the  time  he  is  full  of 
human  warmth  and  pity.  And  how  strong  he 
is,  in  spite  of  all  that  has  been  against  him  in 
his  birth  and  training  and  the  habits  of  a  luxurious 
life — to  pull  himself  together  like  this !  And 
when  he  spoke  about  his  chances  at  the  Election, 
he  was  so  frank  and  modest.  He  said  that  the 
seat  was  a  pretty  safe  one  and  that  if  he  was 
elected  it  wouldn't  be  any  credit  at  all  to  him. 


TWO  SINNERS  227 

I  should  like  to  hear  him  speak — he  would  be 
very  straight  and  to  the  point.  He  would  be 
very  amusing  too ! 

" '  Soon,'  he  said,  but  ought  I  to  let  him 
come,  will  it  not  open  afresh  the  old  wounds  ? 
I  thought  I  had  the  strength  to  do  without 
human  love,  and  now  that  I  have  seen  Lionel 
again  I  am  counting  the  hours  because  each 
one  brings  me  nearer  to  that  '  soon ' !  " 

"  September  24. — The  world  seems  different 
to-night.  I  look  upon  it  with  different  eyes. 
Not  that  I  am  afraid,  but  that  things  have  lost 
their  old  significance  and  for  the  moment  all 
seems  a  blank.  When  it  was  moonlight,  I  often 
used  to  look  out  of  my  window  at  the  light  bare 
open  sky  stretching  beyond  the  cliff's  rim  from 
which  came  an  indistinct  murmur  of  the  sea, 
and  I  used  to  think  of  those  words  : 

" '  Hark  to  the  tolling  of  bells 
And  the  crying  of  the  wind, 
The  old  spells  time  out  of  mind.1 

These  words  to-night  have  no  meaning  for  me. 
They  express  the  melancholy  of  life — yes — and 
of  human  hope.  Nothing  is  real  to  me  now — 
but  death ! 

"  The  moment  before  Lionel  came  into  the 
room  this  morning,  when  I  heard  his  step  and 
his  voice,  I  felt  a  thrilling  pleasure,  but  when  he 
entered  I  knew  that  '  something '  was  going  to 
happen,  something  that  I  should  fear !  He 
flung  himself  down  by  me  on  the  little  narrow 
sofa  and  broke  the  news  to  me,  gradually — to 


228  TWO  SINNERS 

help  me.  He  told  me  he  was  going  to  take  me  a 
long  drive — to  London.  Why  to  London  ?  Then 
it  came  out.  He  was  taking  me  to  see  a  specialist. 
He  had  arranged  it  all,  and  the  hour.  I  was 
amazed,  confused,  but  I  knew  I  had  to  go !  I 
saw  the  necessity  of  it  as  soon  as  he  put  it  before 
me.  He  fastened  my  gloves  for  me,  making 
pretence  that  I  was  too  stupid  to  do  it  myself— 
and  he  propped  me  up  in  the  motor  with  cushions 
and  made  me  put  up  my  feet,  so  that  I  should 
feel  fatigue  as  little  as  possible.  I  could  not 
help  thinking  of  that  drive  we  had  eighteen 
months  ago — from  Brighton  to  Orpenden.  How 
different  everything  was  now — 

"  That  half-hour  in  the  doctor's  room  was 
like  a  bad  dream,  a  bad  dream  that  stiffens  in 
some  extraordinary  way  into  solid  reality  ! 

"  Lionel  led  me  away  from  that  room — and 
in  the  motor  he  made  me  lean  my  head  against 
his  shoulder  while  he  held  my  hand,  whispering 
once  or  twice  as  to  a  sick  child — '  Poor  old  girl, 
poor  Ursula !  Be  a  brave  girl.'  I  don't  think 
I  am  afraid — only — I  have  got  to  say  good-bye 
to  him  and  to  Maud. 

"  One  thing  I  have  made  him  promise,  that 
he  will  not  tell  anybody.  Maud  is  coming  back 
next  month,  it  is  not  necessary  to  let  her  know 
till  she  returns.  What  is  the  good  of  bringing 
her  back  earlier  merely  to  watch  me  die  ?  " 

"  October  12. — To  please  me,  Lionel  brought 
me  to-day  Emily  Bronte's  poem  that  she  wrote 
the  day  before  she  died.  She  was  conscious  of 


TWO  SINNERS  229 

God  within  her  mind  and  that  gave  her  strength 
beyond  the  strength  of  man.  I  have  no  strength 
like  hers.  I  am  not  conscious  of  God  within. 
I  remember  Father  Fitzherbert  saying  that  even 
if  it  could  be  proved  that  Christ  was  a  myth, 
and  that  the  vision  of  St.  Paul  was  only  the 
reflection  of  his  own  thought,  it  would  not 
shake  his  faith  in  the  Incarnation  of  God  in 
Humanity.  But  Fitzherbert  is  a  wonderful 
man.  God  is  not  merely  an  object  of  his  faith, 
but  an  absorbing  passion.  Like  St.  John  of  the 
Cross,  he  could  wander  in  the  desert,  desiring 
no  sacraments,  having  no  further  need  for  the 
human  instruments  of  Divine  Grace,  preferring 
to  die  in  solitude,  alone  with  his  God. 

"  As  for  me,  there  are  moments  when  I 
seem  to  lose  sight  of  God,  and  at  these  moments, 
if  I  did  not  believe  that  Christ  had  walked  upon 
this  earth  nearly  two  thousand  years  ago,  I 
think  my  heart  would  break. 

"  My  moral  courage  has  grown  now  that  I 
know  I  shall  soon  be  face  to  face  with  '  ultimate 
things,'  and  Lionel  has  become  so  much  part 
of  the  little  of  life  that  is  left  to  me  that  I  ven- 
tured to  tell  him  my  thoughts. 

'  Thinking  it  all  over  to-night  I  am  so  thank- 
ful that  I  told  him.  He  was  deeply  sympathetic. 
He  thinks  now  that  '  truth '  will  not  be  served 
by  ignoring  what  is  called  the  '  religious  sense ' 
any  more  than  by  ignoring  what  is  called  the 
*  artistic  sense.'  He  told  me  of  a  man,  high  in 
the  world  of  learning,  who  is  fully  convinced 
that  you  have  only  to  educate  people  to  make 


230  TWO  SINNERS 

them  '  prefer '  an  ethical  lecture  to  a  religious 
ceremony.  '  You  may  as  well  believe/  said 
Lionel,  '  that  you  have  only  to  educate  people, 
and  you  will  get  them  to  "  prefer  "  a  bath  to 
breakfast,  or  to  "  prefer  "  an  ordnance  map  to  a 
water-colour  by  Turner.  Bless  you,  they  want 
both.  Why  ignore  the  complexity  of  the  human 
mind  or  the  needs  of  the  human  heart  ?  Even 
if  we  can  trace  every  instinct  and  every  emotion 
in  the  twentieth  century  to  the  effort  of  some 
organic  cell  lying  in  a  ditch  to  split  itself  in  two, 
that's  only  the  history  of  the  thing.  That  isn't 
a  solution  of  the  problem  "  How  "  ?  That  an 
organic  cell  should  be  able  to  split  in  two  and 
become  two  cells,  each  as  complicated  as  the 
first  one,  is  what  stumps  me.  To  a  plain  man 
like  myself  it  isn't  an  answer  to  say  "  mechanism," 
because  it's  more  like  "  mechanic  and  mechanism 
all  under  the  same  hat." 

"  He  spoke  all  this  in  his  usual  tone,  but, 
dropping  his  voice,  he  added  slowly  and  so 
sadly — '  What  I  have  gone  through  lately  has 
made  me  less  cocksure  than  I  was — because  it 
has  taken  all  the  bounce  out  of  me,  Ursula. 
All  I  am  certain  of  now  is  that  I  am  an  ignorant 
fool/ 

"  Till  this  moment  he  had  never  even  alluded 
to  the  past.  I  knew  that  only  some  deep 
emotion  could  have  made  him  speak  of  it.  It 
brought  us  so  much  nearer  together,  that  when 
he  went  away,  I  felt  as  if  half  my  heart  had  gone 
with  him.  But  I  am  happier  than  I  have  been 
before.  I  feel  that  our  friendship  is  deeper 


TWO  SINNERS  231 

than  it  was.  I  know  now  that  his  thoughts 
will  follow  me  when  I  pass  through  the  Valley 
of  the  Shadow  of  Death.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  do 
something  for  him,  serve  him  in  some  way, 
before  I  die.  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  him  going 
about  unsatisfied.  I  know  he  is  filling  his  life 
with  work  and  interests,  but  all  the  time  his 
heart  aches." 

"  October  22. — The  nurse  has  come.  Lionel 
was  right  to  insist  on  it.  She  is  a  great  comfort 
to  me.  I  need  assistance  now.  I  am  so  much 
weaker.  That  Lionel  should  have  taken  all 
the  trouble  off  my  hands — about  getting  her — 
is  so  wonderfully  kind — and  just  at  the  moment 
of  the  election  when  he  is  very  busy. 

"  I  can  see  by  Maud's  letters  that  it  is  not 
her  fault  that  they  have  again  put  off  their 
return.  Nurse  thinks  I  ought  to  summon  her 
back — but  she  does  not  understand.  It  would 
be  sheer  selfishness  to  do  that.  Maud  will  come 
soon — very  soon." 

"  October  24. — I  am  full  of  gratitude.  Lionel 
has  got  in  with  a  large  majority.  He  found 
time  to  come  down  here  in  order  to  tell  me 
himself.  May  God  bless  him  and  his  future 
career,  that  is  my  prayer  to-day." 

"November  1. — A  fear  has  come  upon  me 
now  that  I  am  not  able  to  leave  my  bed,  that 
Maud  will  come  too  late  for  me  to  be  able  to  tell 
her  all  that  Lionel  has  been  to  me.  She  ought  to 


232  TWO  SINNERS 

know.  It  might  make  a  difference !  Also  if 
she  saw  him  now,  might  it  not  open  her  eyes  to 
his  real  value  ?  They  must  meet — it  is  the 
cry  of  my  heart !  Her  life  would  be  safe  in  his 
hands,  and  surely  she,  seeing  all  the  depth  of 
kindness  in  his  heart,  would  learn  to  forget  his 
faults.  God  knows  we  all  have  faults.  I  shall 
have  no  peace  now  till  she  comes.  Yesterday 
I  wrote  to  ask  her  what  day  she  returns." 

"November  11. — Lionel  found  out  that 
Father  Fitzherbert  was  lecturing  in  Brighton 
this  week.  He  went  to  see  him  and  brought 
him  here  this  morning.  They  came  into  my 
room  together.  It  seemed  a  strange  thing  seeing 
them  together — it  was  like  a  dream.  Then 
Lionel  went  away  and  left  us. 

"  If  I  had  any  sad  thoughts  about  death 
before  they  have  all  gone  now.  I  am  conscious 
of  nothing  but  the  strange  privilege  of  existence 
— the  mystery  of  our  birth  is  as  great  as  the 
mystery  of  our  death — it  is  enough  that  I  am 
part  of  the  Whole — one  of  the  many  that  have 
emerged  from  that  One  and  to  which  I  return 
with  the  experiences  of  my  life  within  me. 
Loneliness  seems  now  an  illusion. 

"  I  find  that  Lionel  had  ordered  nurse  to 
wire  to  Maud,  only  that  I  was  to  be  told.  I  give 
my  consent  that  a  wire  shall  be  sent  to-morrow 
if  Maud  herself  does  not  wire  that  she  is  crossing. 
But  I  have  a  strange  feeling  that  she  will  come. 

''  The  wind  wails  a  little  to-night  and  I  heard 
the  sea-gulls  screaming  over  the  house  at  sunset." 


TWO  SINNERS  233 

'''  November  13  (afternoon). — The  wire  came 
at  midday.  Maud  is  on  her  way.  She  thinks 
I  can  come  up  to  town  and  stay  with  them  as 
soon  as  Aunt  Dorothy  has  rested !  She  will 
know,  poor  girl,  to-morrow  by  the  first  post, 
that  I  shall  never  move  from  this  bed  again. 
She  will  come  to  me  at  once.  Nurse  has  looked 
out  the  trains — she  may  be  here  by  eleven. 
Although  I  know  that  I  may  live  for  many  days 
I  feel  as  if  the  time  was  short.  I  think  my 
anxiety  that  my  two  dear  ones  shall  meet,  makes 


me  nervous." 


"  November  13  (evening). — God  in  His  good- 
ness has  spared  me  all  physical  pain — only 
weakness.  I  shall  put  down  my  pen  soon  and 
not  take  it  up  again.  To-morrow  she  will  be 
here  and  I  shall  have  no  need  to  write.  I  shall 
see  her  face  to  face  and  speak  all  that  is  in  my 
heart." 

The  shaking  handwriting  ended  there,  the 
rest  of  the  book  was  blank. 

Maud  sat  with  the  book  on  her  knees,  again 
listening  to  the  storm  outside.  It  had  spent 
the  worst  of  its  fury  and  now  the  rain  was  coming 
down  and  beating  in  the  chimney,  hissing  among 
the  smouldering  ashes.  Then  she  fell  asleep 
from  sheer  exhaustion,  in  the  grey  dawn. 

Maud's  sleep  was  full  of  the  sound  of  wind  and 
the  sharp  sting  of  the  rain.  She  thought  that 
she  was  awakened  suddenly  by  some  fresh, 
sharp,  urgent  call  breaking  in  upon  the  noise  of 


234  TWO  SINNERS 

the  elements.  She  thought  that  she  got  up 
from  her  chair,  her  limbs  stiff  and  numbed  with 
cold  and  saw  that  the  curtains  were  drawn  aside 
and  the  window  wide  open.  Through  it  she 
could  see  a  great  wide  space  stretching  before 
her  to  the  horizon,  and  on  the  horizon  a  crimson 
sun  was  rising  in  great  flames,  bathing  all  the 
earth  and  skies  in  glory. 

The  strange  noise  came  again,  it  was  a  voice 
full  of  exultation  calling  to  her — and  now  she 
could  hear  what  it  said  : 

:f  The  last  day  has  come,  arise  and  meet  your 
Lord  and  His  saints  !  " 

Maud  stood,  stunned  by  the  stupendous 
news.  Then  an  overwhelming  joy  came  over 
her.  So  the  wretched  problem  of  life  was 
solved,  the  crooked  was  to  be  made  straight  and 
all  tears  were  to  be  wiped  away. 

The  voice  called  again,  but  this  time  the 
words  were  indistinct  and  she  saw  through  the 
window  a  change  coming  over  the  landscape, 
the  colour  swiftly  fading  from  the  great  stretch 
of  earth  and  sky,  and  with  a  groan,  Maud  turned 
and  saw  the  ashes  lying  in  the  grate  and  that 
she  was  not  standing,  but  sitting  stiff  and 
numbed  in  the  chair  in  which  she  had  slept. 
No  open  window  was  to  be  seen,  but  through 
the  faded  curtains  daylight  was  peering.  Maud 
rose  to  her  feet  and  pulled  the  curtains  aside. 
There  lay  between  her  and  a  cold  sea-line  the 
sodden  stubble  and  the  narrow  deeply  rutted 
road  over  which  she  had  stumbled  last  night. 

She  felt  dazed  by  the  bitter  disappointment— 


TWO  SINNERS  235 

she  was  back  again  with  the  old  problem  of  life 
unsolved  and  the  bitter  sorrow  of  night  no  less 
bitter  in  the  grey  light  of  a  new  morning. 

Some  one  was  knocking  loudly  at  her  door. 
She  now  knew  that  some  one  had  been  knocking 
several  times. 

She  called  "  Come  in,"  faintly. 

The  nurse  came  into  the  room.  "  Oh,  Miss, 
have  you  been  up  all  night  ?  "  she  asked  aghast. 

"  Do  you  want  me  ?  "  asked  Maud  simply. 
For  a  brief  second  she  wondered: — "  Has  she 
come  to  say  that  Ursula  is  alive  ?  ': 

No — those  tidings  would  never  come  to  Maud 
again  on  this  earth. 

"  Father  Fitzherbert,"  said  the  nurse,  "  is 
asking  to  see  you — he  is  downstairs  in  the 
sitting-room." 


CHAPTEE  XXI 

HE  was  there  in  Ursula's  shabby  little  sitting- 
room,  seated  by  a  dismal  newly-lighted  fire. 
The  same  austere,  commanding  presence  that 
Maud  had  never  forgotten,  and  this  time  no 
phantom  of  her  brain  such  as  she  conjured  up 
in  that  unhappy  afternoon  at  Brown  Street 
eighteen  months  ago,  no  phantom,  but  Fitz- 
herbert  himself. 

Memory  often  plays  us  false  when  our  senti- 
ment has  been  roused  by  some  brief  encounter 
in  the  past,  and  we  meet  the  person  again  only 
to  find  to  our  disappointment  that  the  heroic 
stature  we  remembered  has  dwindled  in  the 
light  of  fact  down  to  normal  proportions.  But 
when  Fitzherbert  rose  and  came  to  meet  her, 
Maud  experienced,  not  disappointment  in  him, 
but  a  heightened  impression  of  force  and  person- 
ality. Did  he  recognise  her  ? 

Different  as  she  looked  now,  with  her  hair 
untidy,  her  face  flushed  with  fatigue  and  Ursula's 
dressing-gown  wrapped  loosely  around  her,  from 
the  well-dressed,  self-possessed  young  woman, 
much  occupied  with  the  failings  of  other  people, 
whom  he  had  met  before,  Maud  saw  that  he 
remembered  her.  She  saw  that  behind  those 
grey  eyes  the  brain  was  piecing  together  separate 
links  in  a  chain  of  circumstances  that  he  now 


TWO  SINNERS  237 

had  at  his  command.  She  closed  the  door 
behind  her. 

"  Father  Fitzherbert,"  she  said,  and  stood 
where  she  was  without  offering  her  hand.  "  I 
came  too  late  !  " 

He  was  close  to  her  now. 

'  You  came  too  late,"  he  repeated  quietly. 
"  But  you  must  not  let  that  distress  you." 

'  Yes,"  said  Maud  hurriedly,  for  she  felt  a 
sudden  faintness  with  the  strain  of  the  meeting, 
and  she  was  afraid  she  might  not  have  the 
strength  to  finish  what  she  wanted  to  say.  "  It 
was  my  own  fault !  I  behaved  selfishly  to  her 
up  to  the  very  end.  I  have  never  all  my  life 
done  anything  I  ought  to  until  I  was  driven 
to  doing  it,  and  then  it  has  always  been  too 
late." 

"  Are  you  sure  that  this  is  not  the  self- 
accusation  of  a  mind  full  of  distress  and  a  body 
that  is  exhausted  1  " 

Maud  trembled  from  head  to  foot,  and  she 
clung  to  the  arms  that  he  put  out  to  her  for  her 
support. 

Something  in  the  fatherhood  of  his  grasp 
unloosened  the  pent-up  anguish  of  her  heart, 
and  Maud  gave  way  at  last  to  bitter  weeping 
that  for  a  few  minutes  left  her  without  power 
to  speak.  How  it  came  about  she  did  not  know, 
but  when  at  last  she  was  able  to  articulate  she 
found  herself  at  his  knees,  pouring  out  to  him 
everything  without  restraint,  everything  that 
had  burdened  her  conscience  and  destroyed  her 
peace,  everything  even  to  the  meanest  fears  of 


238  TWO  SINNERS 

her  girlhood,  of  her  womanhood,  all  the  stirrings 
of  a  weak  and  passionate  heart  for  personal 
happiness,  and  the  inevitable  failure  to  find  it. 

And  he,  seated  on  that  great  shabby  chair 
where  Ursula  had  watched  the  daylight  sink 
into  night  through  so  many  a  lonely  week,  he 
listened  with  the  patience  of  one  whose  daily 
practice  it  is  to  minister  to  the  lives  of  others. 
When  at  last  Maud  drooped  her  face  upon  the 
hot  hands  she  had  clasped  round  his  knees  when 
she  sank  into  exhausted  silence,  he  raised  her 
from  the  floor  and  made  her  sit  in  his  chair. 

She  lay  back,  watching  him  with  heavy- 
eyed  attention,  waiting  for  his  directions.  He 
walked  to  the  window  and  looked  out  at  the 
long  stretch  of  sodden  stubble  lying  beyond  the 
little  gate.  The  wind  still  broke  against  the 
house,  but  its  fury  was  over ;  the  heavy  sky 
was  beginning  to  break  up  into  great  tattered 
masses ;  the  rain  was  no  longer  heavy,  it  was 
coming  down  fitfully  and  the  window-panes 
had  finer  drops  on  them. 

He  walked  back  to  the  chair  where  she  sat 
and  stood  in  front  of  her,  looking  down  at  her. 

"  You  have  suffered  yourself,"  he  said,  "  and 
you  have  made  others  suffer.  That  is  past,  but 
let  me  tell  you  that  you  have  more  suffering  in 
front  of  you." 

"  I  know  !  "  she  said. 

"  The  past  is  past,  your  duty  lies  with  the 
future — that  is  all  that  belongs  to  you.  It  is 
about  the  future  that  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 
He  spoke  in  a  low  voice  and  very  calmly. 


TWO  SINNERS  239 

''  First  of  all  I  have  to  tell  you  what  will 
be  a  shock  to  you,  but  what  it  is  necessary  for 
you  to  know.  The  man  who  was  so  dear  to 
your  sister  is  now  lying  only  half  conscious  at  his 
hotel.  He  does  not  know  that  your  sister  has 
passed  away." 

"  He's  not  dead  ? "  Maud's  face  became 
colourless. 

"  Don't  move,"  said  Fitzherbert ;  "  sit  still 
and  listen.  You  have  been  weak  in  the  past ; 
gather  yourself  together  and  be  strong  now — 
show  yourself  a  woman  of  courage.  You  can 
and  you  must." 

She  sat  still  and  silent,  watching  the  words 
as  they  left  his  lips. 

"  Yesterday,"  he  went  on,  "  he  was  thrown 
out  of  his  motor  and  got  some  injury  to  his 
spine.  He  was  on  his  way  here.  The  doctors 
put  him  under  morphia  during  most  of  yesterday. 
I  saw  the  nurses  ;  I  went  to  Princes  Hotel  before 
I  came  here.  It  is  hoped  that  the  injuries  will 
not  permanently  affect  him,  but  he  has  to  be 
kept  absolutely  quiet,  not  only  in  body  but  in 
mind.  He  was  to  have  gone  back  to  Orpenden 
last  evening  to  speak  at  a  meeting.  If  he 
recovers,  it  will  be  some  days,  perhaps  weeks, 
before  he  can  take  up  his  duties  to  his  con- 
stituency. All  is  being  done  that  can  be  done 
for  him — all  that  wealth  can  do."  He  emphasised 
the  word  "  wealth." 

Maud  put  her  hands  over  her  face.  She 
could  not  bear  the  look  in  Fitzherbert's  eyes. 
She  saw  in  them  a  reproach  that  she  deserved. 


240  TWO  SINNERS 

Poor  Lionel,  he  had  all  that  wealth  can  give — 
wealth  cannot  command  love.  Wealth  attracts 
the  parasites  only.  She  had  been  a  parasite ! 
Poor  Lionel ! 

"  I  can  see,"  he  said,  "  that  you  are  full  of  a 
passion  of  pity.  Great  heroic  things  in  this 
world  are  often  done  in  a  passion  of  pity,  but 
still  greater  deeds  are  done  by  that  far  rarer 
passion,  the  passion  for  justice.  When  it  comes 
to  the  treadmill  of  daily  duty,  when  it  comes  to 
the  monotonous  small  warfare  against  our  lower 
nature  which  makes  up  life,  passions  carry  us 
but  a  little  way — nothing  lasts  out  the  fret  and 
wear  of  soul  and  body  but  the  love  of  our  fellow- 
men  and  the  sober  determination  to  subordinate 
self.  This,  mind  you,  is  a  religion  for  strong 
men.  You,  just  now,  full  of  this  passion  of  pity, 
are  picturing  your  old  lover  lying  on  his  bed  as 
helpless  as  a  child,  and  as  long  as  he  is  dangerously 
ill  you  will  forget  to  criticise  him  or  blame  him 
for  the  lack  of  spirituality,  which  lack  you 
acknowledge  that  you  share.  But  when  he  is 
well  again — supposing  that  he  recovers — how 
will  you  feel  then  ?  I  seem  to  speak  harshly, 
but  I  am  merely  speaking  what  you  in  your 
heart  know  to  be  true." 

Yes,  he  was  not  speaking  more  harshly  than 
she  deserved. 

"  You  mean  that  I  mustn't  even  ask  him  for 
his  forgiveness  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Yes,  I  mean  that.  Are  you  willing  to  rake 
up  his  emotions  merely  in  order  to  get  the 
sensation  of  being  forgiven  ?  You  can't  want 


TWO  SINNERS  241 

that — you  can't  want  that  now.    That  is  not 
justice  to  him." 

Maud  dropped  her  eyes. 

"  And  I  mustn't  even  thank  him  for  all  he 
has  done  for  Ursula  ?  "  she  said. 

"  It  is  not  necessary,"  said  Fitzherbert. 
'  You  think  he  won't  care,"  she  demanded, 
gazing  up  at  her  confessor  again  with  her  red- 
dened eyes  full  of  anxiety. 

"  I  think  he  will  care,"  he  replied.  "  I 
think  that  any  interview  under  any  pretext 
will  do  him  harm.  He  is  accustoming  himself 
to  life  without  you  and  is  behaving  like  a  strong, 
sensible  man  ;  do  you  propose  to  disturb  him  ?  " 

"  He  will  never  know  how  grateful  I  am 
and  how  I  honour  him  for  his  goodness  to 
Ursula  1  " 

"  No,"  said  Fitzherbert.  "  He  won't  know, 
but  does  that  matter  ?  He  brightened  the  last 
days  of  your  sister's  life ;  he  knows  that  she 
was  grateful." 

Maud  found  her  way  blocked.  She  had  cut 
herself  off  from  Lionel's  life  and  now  she  was 
forbidden  to  return  even  as  a  humble  friend. 

"  He  will  think  that  I  don't  appreciate  all 
that  he  did  for  Ursula,"  she  said  miserably. 
"  He  will  think  I  am  even  meaner  than  I  am." 

"  If  you  follow  the  conventions  of  social 
life,"  he  said,  "  you  will  get  Lady  Dorothy  to 
write  to  him  in  her  own  name,  yours  and  your 
sister,  Mrs.  Broughton's,  thanking  him  for  all 
that  he  has  done.  He  will  know  that  you  are 
all  grateful — that's  as  it  should  be." 

B 


242  TWO  SINNERS 

Maud's  eyes  fell  again.  He  was  protecting 
Lionel.  He  was  standing  guard  over  him,  he 
was  carefully  closing  every  door  of  access  to  him. 
He  was  right.  A  man  like  Fitzherbert,  who  is 
living  in  the  lives  of  others,  is  likely  to  be  right. 
'  You  have  an  opportunity  now,"  said 
Fitzherbert,  "  of  showing  that  you  are  going  to 
act  unselfishly.  The  truth  is  that  Major  Kames 
lies  between  life  and  death.  If  he  dies,  you  will 
have  the  profound  consolation  of  knowing  that 
you,  at  the  last,  considered  him  instead  of 
considering  yourself." 

Maud's  lips  assented.    Her  thoughts  flew  to 
the  Princes  Hotel.    Was  he  really  dying  ? 

'  Then  you  will  go  back,"  said  Fitzherbert, 
"  to  Lady  Dorothy  as  soon  as  you  have  done 
all  that  can  be  done  to  reverence  the  body  of 
her  who  was  to  you  as  a  second  mother.  You 
will  go  back  and  undertake  your  new  duties 
cheerfully  and  not  waste  your  time  or  wear 
out  your  brain  with  profitless  regrets.  To  do 
that  would  be  not  retrieving  the  past  but  repeat- 
ing it.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

He  moved  away  from  her  and  walked  again 
to  the  window.  "  Miss  Monckton,  I  must  be 
going ;  the  rain  has  stopped.  I  can  walk  to 
Rottingdean  and  catch  the  motor  bus.  I  have 
time  to  catch  the  one  that  starts  at  half-past 
nine." 

Maud  had  been  following  him  with  her  eyes. 
She  had  been  so  wholly  absorbed  in  her  own 
troubles  that  she  had  not  noticed  till  now  that 
the  skirt  of  his  cassock  below  the  knee  was  damp  ; 


TWO  SINNEKS  243 

she  also  noticed  that  there  was  a  leathern  case 
lying  on  the  table.  He  had  come  so  early  this 
morning  in  order  to  give  her  the  sacrament  if 
she  wished  it — and  then  he  had  found  that  she 
was  not  prepared  to  receive  it,  perhaps  did  not 
care  to  receive  it,  and  now  he  was  preparing  to 
go  away — just  as  he  was — fasting.  Maud  started 
up  from  her  chair,  full  of  remorse. 

'  You  can't  go  fasting  and  with  your  cassock 
not  yet  dry.  Oh,  Father  Fitzherbert,  I  have 
been  neglecting  you.  You  mustn't  go  till  you 
have  had  breakfast." 

"  My  cassock  is  scarcely  wet  at  all,"  he  said  ; 
"  I  made  my  cabman  drive  me  over  the  stubble 
almost  to  the  gate."  But  she  would  not  listen. 

"It  is  wet,"  said  Maud,  "  and  the  kindest 
thing  you  can  do  is  to  stay  and  let  me  give  you 
breakfast.  You  must  eat  somewhere — it  will 
not  delay  you— it  shall  be  here  in  a  few  minutes." 

Maud's  tone  of  submission  had  changed 
into  one  of  command ;  the  signs  of  physical 
fatigue  in  her  face  and  in  her  movements 
vanished.  He  was  no  longer  her  confessor,  he 
was  simply  a  helpless  man  who  needed  looking 
after.  Before  he  could  take  it  from  her,  she 
caught  up  the  poker  and  stirred  the  fire.  It  had 
burnt  up  now  and  it  burst  into  a  blaze,  roaring 
up  the  chimney.  It  was  surprising  how  soon 
he  collapsed  into  obedience.  She  made  him  sit 
in  the  large  chair  and  gave  it  a  push  towards 
the  fire  as  if  he  had  been  a  child  sitting  in  it, 
only  that,  weighted  with  his  six  feet  of  solid 
structure  it  would  not  move.  To  please  her, 


244  TWO  SINNERS 

he  jerked  the  chair  forward  and  put  his  feet 
upon  the  fender.  Then  she  bade  him  remain 
where  he  was  till  she  returned,  and  she  went 
out  of  the  room  closing  the  door  behind  her 
with  the  manner  of  one  who  wishes  to  shut 
some  unreliable  person  safely  within.  She 
crossed  the  little  oil-clothed  passage  and  pushed 
open  a  door.  It  led  into  the  farm  parlour.  She 
found  there  the  farmer's  wife  and  her  niece, 
and  she  begged  them  to  get  breakfast  im- 
mediately. But  they  were  already  preparing 
it  and  became  full  of  sympathetic  haste  at  the 
sight  of  her. 

"  We  didn't  know,  Miss,  quite  when  you 
would  want  it,"  and  the  old  woman  hurried  into 
the  kitchen. 

Maud  went  back  to  the  hall  and  climbed  that 
frail,  creaking  staircase  with  its  shaky  rail.  She 
had  to  pass  Ursula's  door.  That  door  stood 
out  of  the  wall,  slight  and  shabby  and  yet 
cruelly  conspicuous  and  significant.  Maud 
passed  it  heavily  and  turned  into  her  own  room. 
She  bathed  her  eyes  and  made  a  hasty  toilet. 
She  dressed  rapidly,  conscious  all  the  time  she 
did  so  that  it  had  been  Ursula  who  had  taught 
her  how  to  be  rapid  and  methodical  in  dressing 
as  in  everything  else  of  a  practical  nature. 
Whatever  there  was  in  her  that  was  good — so 
Maud  said  to  herself — had  been  created  by 
Ursula ;  whatever  there  was  of  bad  belonged  to 
her  own  nature.  And  now  Ursula  was  gone, 
and  the  one  other  being  in  the  world  who  really 
cared  for  her  and  whom  Ursula  had  loved  was 


TWO  SINNERS  245 

possibly  at  this  moment  slipping  out  of  life. 
For  all  that  she  knew  she  might  be  absolutely 
alone — except  for  Aunt  Dorothy.  But  Maud 
dared  herself  to  cry  again.  Ah,  she  must  not. 
She  ought  not  to  have  cried  so  much  with 
Fitzherbert ;  it  must  have  been  very  trying 
for  him.  She  must  go  down  quietly  and  give 
him  breakfast,  and  speak  and  act  calmly  so 
that  he  could  eat  in  peace. 

In  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  from  the 
time  she  had  left  it,  Maud  entered  the  sitting 
room,  still  red-eyed  and  weary-looking,  but 
quiet  and  self-possessed  and  alert. 

Breakfast  was  already  laid,  and  while  the 
coffee  and  dishes  were  being  fetched  Maud  went 
round  to  the  fire.  "  Don't  get  up,"  she  said 
almost  imperiously  to  Fitzherbert.  "  Is  your 
cassock  dry  ?  That  is  all  I  want  to  know." 

Yes,  it  was  dry,  he  said. 

Maud  bent  down  and  felt  it  with  her  hand. 

"  You  don't  take  my  word  for  it  ?  "  ques- 
tioned Fitzherbert,  submitting  to  having  his 
cassock  handled  by  her. 

"  It  isn't  quite  dry,"  she  said.  "  Why  did 
you  say  it  was  dry  ?  " 

"  It  seems  dry,"  he  said.  "  Besides,  the 
matter  is  a  trifling  one." 

"  Things  don't  seem  dry  if  they  are  damp," 
said  Maud  rather  faintly.  She  was  standing  up 
now  and  she  looked  down  at  his  face  reproach- 
fully. She  was  vexed  to  think  that  all  this 
splendid  manly  moral  strength  and  helpfulness, 
all  this  keen  intelligence  was  lodged  in  a  body 


246  TWO  SINNERS 

that  was  so  unprotected  and  so  uncared  for. 
Why,  if  he  went  on  like  this  he  might  be  taken 
ill  and  die  any  day. 

He  smiled.  That  smile  made  it  worse.  It 
showed  that  he  was  hopeless.  She  did  not 
return  the  smile.  She  shook  her  head.  Un- 
fortunately she  could  not  do  with  him  as  she 
liked,  there  were  conventions  in  the  way,  but  she 
meant  to  do  as  much  as  she  dared.  So,  after 
seeing  him  seated  at  the  table,  she  took  the  large 
striped  woollen  antimacassar  that  had  been  used 
for  Ursula  and  laid  it  over  his  knees,  saying  : 

"  Even  if  you  are  angry,  please  let  me  have 
my  way — I  am  hostess." 

This  time  he  laughed  and  allowed  the  barbaric 
covering  to  remain  where  she  placed  it,  and  she, 
rejoicing  that  he  was  submissive,  smiled  for  the 
first  time  and  sat  down  opposite  to  him.  They 
took  their  breakfast  at  first  in  silence,  but 
afterwards  he  talked  about  Ursula,  telling  Maud 
that  she  had  spoken  about  being  buried  in  the 
little  church  down  in  the  hollow  behind  the  farm. 
Maud  had  already  gathered  this  from  the  nurse, 
and  last  night  she  had  written  to  the  Vicar. 
Eitzherbert  asked  if  there  was  anything  he  could 
do  for  her  in  Brighton,  but  there  was  nothing ; 
Maud  had  either  made  the  arrangement  or  was 
going  to  do  so  that  morning — by  the  evening 
she  expected  her  Aunt  Dorothy  and  Stella. 
There  would  be  no  room  for  them  in  the  farm, 
but  they  would  put  up  at  Eottingdean. 

Maud  went  out  with  him  into  the  little  hall 
to  see  him  put  on  his  cloak.  She  helped  him 


TWO  SINNERS  247 

on  with  it  in  silence.  A  large  shabby  umbrella 
stood  near  the  door  with  a  hat  balanced  on  it. 
It  was  his  umbrella  and  his  hat.  He  had  put 
his  leathern  case  under  his  arm,  and  now  good-bye 
must  be  said.  He  held  out  his  hand  to  Maud. 

Were  they  never  to  meet  again  ?  Was  he 
to  go  away  knowing  what  no  one  else  knew  of 
her  intimate  thoughts  and  never  speak  with 
her  again,  never  trace  any  further  the  history  of 
her  life  ? 

What  his  life  was,  what  his  thoughts  were, 
was  as  far  from  her  knowledge  now  as  they  had 
been  when  she  first  saw  him  standing  in  the 
vestry  of  that  church  in  London. 

'  You  will  probably  see  it  in  the  papers," 
he  said,  "  but  if  you  like  I  will  let  you  know  how 
Major  Kames  goes  on.  Would  you  like  me  to  do 
that  ?  " 

This  man  standing  guard  over  Lionel  and 
forbidding  her  to  see  him  or  communicate  with 
him,  at  least  did  not  want  her  to  suffer  more  than 
was  necessary.  He  was  her  friend  as  well  as 
Lionel's. 

She  looked  up  at  him  and  spoke  impulsively. 
"  I  want  to  know  more  than  anything  else  in 
the  world !  " 

She  felt  a  sort  of  dull  amazement  at  her  own 
emotion  and  stood  confused  and  silent  while  he 
gazed  intently  down  at  her. 

"  1  will  write  to  you  then,"  he  said,  "  I  shall 
be  in  Brighton  till  Monday,  as  I  am  preaching 
on  Sunday.  So,  Miss  Monckton,  you  leave 
everything  absolutely  in  my  hands  ?  " 


248  TWO  SINNEES 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  if  you  will  not  forsake 
me  altogether  because  you  despise  me." 

"  I  don't  despise  you,"  he  said,  "  but  I  want 
you  to  tread  the  narrow  path.  I  want  you  to 
do  your  duty — you  know  as  well  as  I  that 
outside  the  path  of  duty  there  is  no  peace  for  a 
man's  soul." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Maud,  "  and  no  peace 
inside — alas  !  " 

"  There  is — and  you  will  find  it,"  said  Fitz- 
herbert.  "  But  it  doesn't  come  all  at  once." 

"  You  know,"  said  Maud  a  little  tearfully. 

"  I  do  know,"  he  said.  '  Trust  me,  and 
good-bye ;  God  be  with  you." 
^  He  squeezed  her  hand  very  tightly,  and  then 
he  put  on  his  hat,  seized  his  umbrella  and  pulled 
the  door  open.  He  raised  his  hat  and  went  out, 
shutting  the  door  heavily  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  events  of  the  next  two  days  passed  with 
a  strange  unreality.  What  stood  out  most 
definitely  to  Maud  was  the  solitary  evening  she 
spent  on  that  first  day  when  she  tore  page  by 
page  of  Ursula's  diary  and  burnt  it  at  the  fire, 
heart-sick  as  she  did  so.  Ursula  would  not  have 
wished  it  to  be  kept.  Then  letters  came  by  the 
morning  and  afternoon  posts,  and  among  the 
letters  that  arrived  none  came  from  Father 
Fitzherbert.  There  was  a  good  deal  to  be  done. 
The  Vicar  had  come  to  see  her  at  once  and  was 
eager  to  do  anything  that  he  could.  He  even 
went  to  the  Brighton  station  to  meet  Lady 
Dorothy  and  Stella  and  take  them  to  their 
room  at  Rottingdean. 

Most  of  the  arrangements  had  to  be  made  at 
once — before  their  arrival.  However,  when  they 
did  arrive  Maud  found  that  they  had  no  views 
of  their  own  and  had  taken  for  granted  that 
she  would  decide  everything,  and  that  they 
were  prepared  to  be  satisfied  with  her  arrange- 
ments. 

*  You  will  come  back  with  me  ?  "  was  indeed 
what  was  uppermost  in  Lady  Dorothy's  mind, 
and  she  was  unable  to  suppress  the  question, 
though  she  asked  it  in  a  tone  that  implied  that 


250  TWO  SINNERS 

there  could  be  no  question  about  it.  The 
funeral  was  to  be  on  Saturday  morning,  and 
Maud  begged  to  be  allowed  to  stay  on  by  herself 
at  the  farm  till  the  late  afternoon  of  that  day. 
Lady  Dorothy  made  no  difficulty ;  she  and 
Stella  would  go  back  together.  All  she  wanted 
was  the  certainty  of  being  in  sole  possession 
of  Maud — that  certainty  filled  up  the  vacancy 
of  her  life  and  gave  her  courage.  She  was 
sincerely  sorry  about  Ursula,  and  shocked  and 
rather  remorseful  at  the  thought  that  there  had 
been  no  member  of  the  family  to  minister  to  her 
last  wants. 

As  to  Stella,  it  was  her  first  experience  of 
death  and  she  was  overwhelmed  by  it.  After 
all,  Ursula  had  been  the  only  mother  that  she 
had  known,  and  she  walked  over  from  Rotting- 
dean  to  see  the  room  which  Ursula  had  used 
and  to  see  her  step-sister's  body  lying  peacefully 
in  the  coffin,  with  a  pain  at  the  heart  that  she 
had  never  felt  in  her  life  before. 

In  looking  over  and  in  packing  Ursula's 
things  Maud  had  found  Ursula's  will.  She  had 
opened  and  read  it  to  see  if  it  gave  any  directions 
about  the  funeral.  There  were  none  except 
what  Maud  knew  already,  that  the  grave  was 
to  be  in  the  churchyard  in  the  hollow  of  the 
Downs  behind  the  farm. 

The  will  was  very  short  and  simple,  and 
Maud  saw  that  she  was  made  sole  executor,  that 
half  the  capital  was  to  be  in  her  trust  on  Stella's 
behalf,  and  that  the  other  half  was  to  be  hers, 
Maud's,  absolutely. 


TWO  SINNERS  251 

In  order  that  Stella  should  feel  that  Maud 
was  not  leaning  on  her  rights  as  executrix,  she 
brought  the  will  down  into  the  sitting-room 
and  gave  it  to  Stella  to  read  and  then  went  out 
of  the  room  as  she  could  not  bear  to  see  the 
paper  being  unfolded. 

When  she  returned  she  found  Stella  huddled 
in  the  great  chair,  crying  bitterly. 

"  Stella ! "  said  Maud,  for  she  had  never 
known  her  sister  cry  like  this  before,  not  even 
when  she  took  her  upstairs  to  the  door  of  Ursula's 
room. 

Stella  got  out  of  the  chair,  came  to  Maud 
and  flung  herself  on  her  neck. 

"  Ursula  was  so  just,"  was  all  she  could 
articulate.  "  She  didn't  want  to — but  she 
thought  it  was  right."  Maud  understood. 

George  Broughton  came  down  to  the  funeral. 
He  arrived  on  Friday  night,  and  early  on  Satur- 
day morning  the  four  mourners,  followed  by  the 
farm  people  and  the  nurse,  walked  behind  the 
coffin,  which  was  carried  by  the  footpath  over 
the  ridge  of  down  into  the  tiny  churchyard. 

There  were  no  traces  left  of  the  recent  storm 
except  that  they  could  hear  the  sound  of  the  sea 
distinctly  as  they  walked  in  silence.  At  the 
ridge  of  down  overlooking  the  dean  there  lay, 
suddenly  discovered  by  the  eye,  the  little  grey 
church  with  its  squat  spire,  a  small  grey  vicarage 
in  a  clump  of  trees,  and  a  cluster  of  labourers' 
cottages  straggling  down  to  a  narrow,  sluggish, 
chalky  brook  at  the  bottom.  Beyond  that  lay  a 
valley,  unseen,  and  a  shoulder  of  down  blocking 


252  TWO  SINNERS 

the  view  to  the  horizon.  The  sky  was  a  clear 
blue,  with  heavy  clouds  drifting  low  towards 
the  north. 

The  coffin-bearers  and  mourners  descended 
the  dean,  sheltered  here  from  the  keen  but 
gentle  breeze  that  came  up  from  the  sea.  The 
sun  was  almost  hot  on  their  heads  as  they  moved 
slowly  towards  the  church.  The  tiny  grey 
church  with  its  little  grey  churchyard  looked 
so  much  the  "  home  "  of  all  true  lovers  of  the 
Downs  "that  Maud  felt  a  momentary  comfort 
in  her  heart. 

They  saw  the  coffin  lowered  and  the  earth 
thrown  upon  it.  They  laid  flowers  round  the 
spot,  and  they  all  went  away,  except  Maud. 
She  went  into  the  church  for  a  moment  and 
looked  round  it.  Ursula  must  have  looked  at 
these  short,  stout,  homely  Norman  pillars,  and 
at  the  little  altar  under  that  deep  rose  window. 
She  must  have — until  she  became  too  ill  to  get 
as  far — she  may  have  looked,  as  Maud  did  at 
that  moment,  through  the  rounded  southern 
door  out  to  the  sunshine  lying  on  the  mounds 
of  turf  outside.  Maud  walked  back  to  the  farm 
and  sat  in  Ursula's  room  till  she  knew  that  the 
grave  must  be  covered  in  and  the  dead  left  in 
peace,  and  the  churchyard  empty  of  living 
intruders.  It  was  early  in  the  afternoon  when 
she  went  back  again  to  the  churchyard.  The 
sun  was  beginning  to  settle  down  in  the  west, 
it  was  already  deepening  to  a  clear  delicate 
orange  and  gilding  the  grey  walls  of  the  church. 
The  tombstones  were  also  gilded  and  the  white 


TWO   SINNERS  253 

flowers  on  Ursula's  grave  were  tinged  with  the 
faintest  yellow. 

Maud  rearranged  the  flowers  herself.  There 
would  be  now  until  the  end  of  her  life  something 
about  that  small  spot  in  the  churchyard  that 
was  personal,  something  familiar  and  yet  in- 
explicably strange,  because  death  is  strange. 
That  spot  held  part  of  her  own  past,  a  past 
that  was  gone  from  her  and  yet  in  some  obscure 
form  of  memory  there — lying  at  her  feet. 

Maud  lingered  on  till  the  sun  sank  below  the 
ridge  of  down  into  the  southern  sea  and  the  sky 
became  flushed  with  crimson.  Then  the  air 
grew  colder,  and  the  church  and  the  graves 
became  a  little  dim.  A  cypress  close  to  Ursula's 
grave  was  trembling  in  all  its  leaves,  and  at  the 
western  horizon  against  the  crimson  sky  Maud 
could  see  when  she  looked  up  a  little  clump  of 
withered  trees  with  their  branches  moving  rest- 
lessly. The  dark  rampart  of  clouds  that  had 
perpetually  drifted  at  the  northern  horizon  were 
still  there,  still  drifting,  and  yet  as  they  drifted 
being  replaced  by  new  clouds  that  seemed  to 
come  up  from  below  in  never-ending  procession. 
The  crimson  gradually  paled  into  rose  pink,  and 
the  rampart  of  drifting  clouds  and  the  clump  of 
withered  trees  darkened.  So  did  the  cypress 
close  at  hand,  and  the  light  paled  on  the  church 
and  the  stones  at  the  head  of  the  scattered 
graves.  Maud  bent  over  her  sister's  grave  for  a 
last  farewell,  and  then  resolutely  turned  her  face 
to  the  south.  As  she  climbed  the  narrow  foot- 
path she  turned  and  looked  back  at  the  church, 


254  TWO  SINNEKS 

the  churchyard,  and  the  village  houses  behind 
them.  A  faint  mist  from  the  bottom  of  the  dean 
was  creeping  over  them — it  had  not  yet  reached 
the  church  and  churchyard.  But  darkness  was 
settling  on  the  whole  valley — the  cypress  close 
to  Ursula's  grave  had  turned  black  and  looked 
as  if  it  were  standing  motionless.  Maud  gazed 
at  the  west,  and  it  was  as  if  some  superhuman 
artist  hand  had  stippled  all  the  pink  sky  with 
black  and  had  turned  it  into  a  marvellous, 
melancholy  amethyst.  The  little  clump  of 
withered  trees  on  the  long,  smooth  ridge  was  as 
black  as  the  cypress  there  below.  A  cold  gust 
of  wind  met  her  as  she  reached  the  top  of  the 
down.  She  turned  once  again  and  looked  down. 
All  behind  her  lay  in  obscurity  ;  all  outlines  had 
disappeared ;  nothing  remained  but  a  great 
empty  abyss  of  mist,  in  the  chilly  heart  of  which 
she  knew  lay  Ursula's  grave. 

She  hurried  along  towards  the  farmhouse, 
which  was  standing  plainly  against  the  clear 
twilit  sky.  As  she  got  nearer,  nearer  yet,  a 
star  came  out  over  the  sea,  minute,  bright  and 
steady. 

The  old  farmer  and  a  farm  lad  were  waiting 
at  the  gate  for  her.  They  were  already  loading 
a  small  cart  with  things  that  had  belonged  to 
Ursula  and  that  Maud  had  packed.  They  told 
her  that  below,  on  the  Newhaven  road,  a  taxi 
was  waiting  to  take  her  to  the  station.  It 
had  come  punctually  to  time.  It  was  past  five 
o'clock. 

Maud  went  into  the  house  for  a  moment  to 


TWO  SINNERS  255 

say  good-bye  to  the  farmer's  wife,  and  a  letter 
was  handed  to  her.  It  had  come  by  the  after- 
noon's post.  The  writing  was  a  man's.  It 
was  the  letter  that  she  had  been  waiting  for  at 
every  post.  It  had  come  at  last.  A  sense  of 
suffocation  seized  Maud  as  she  took  it  into  her 
hand.  She  had  to  compel  herself  to  show  no 
emotion. 

With  the  letter  in  her  hand  she  walked  into 
the  sitting-room.  It  was  almost  dark  there ; 
only  the  light  of  the  fire  enabled  her  to  see. 
All  Ursula's  own  possessions  had  gone,  but  there 
was  the  great  chair,  the  narrow,  hard  sofa  with 
its  striped  woollen  antimacassar  and  the  little 
table  in  the  middle.  The  three  people  who  had 
been  most  significant  to  her  in  her  life  had  all 
been  in  this  room,  and  in  this  room  Maud  prayed 
for  strength  to  bear  what  the  letter  might 
contain,  and  into  the  prayer  she  put  Ursula's 
name ;  it  came  naturally — both  the  prayer  and 
name.  Maud  did  not  doubt  that  whatever 
there  was  of  Eternal  and  Ultimate,  Ursula  had 
always  been  and  would  now  be  a  part  of  it.  Then 
she  went  out  of  the  room  and  closed  the  door 
gently  behind  her,  the  letter  still  unopened. 

She  bade  a  brief  good-bye  to  the  farm  people, 
and  then  went  out  into  the  cold  night  air.  It 
was  almost  dark.  She  followed  the  lumbering 
cart,  steeling  her  heart  against  self-pity  and 
forcing  herself  into  an  attitude  of  resignation. 
She  gave  directions  to  the  driver  of  the  cart 
about  the  luggage  and  went  to  the  door  of  the 
taxi.  The  chauffeur  asked  for  a  direction. 


256  TWO  SINNERS 

"  The  Brighton  station,"  she  said,  and  she 
got  into  the  taxi  and  shut  the  door  after  her. 

The  farmhouse  was  not  visible — it  was  merged 
into  the  darkness  of  the  approaching  night* 

She  felt  the  car  move.  Then  she  broke  open 
the  letter,  and  making  herself  deaf  to  the  inward 
clamour  of  her  heart  she  read  the  lines  by  the 
light  of  the  lamp  : 

"  DEA.R  Miss  MONCKTON, 

'  The  doctors  are  satisfied  with  his 
progress.  If  you  have  anything  you  want  to 
say  to  me,  write. 

"  Yours  sincerely, 

"JAMES  FITZHERBERT." 

"  Thank  God  !  "  was  all  she  could  say.  She 
pulled  the  window  of  the  car  down  and  leaned 
out  to  speak  to  the  chauffeur,  who  slackened 
immediately.  "  Go  to  Hove  station  instead  of 
the  Brighton  station,"  she  said,  "  and  as  soon 
as  you  can,  get  on  to  the  old  coast  road  and  go  all 
along  the  front  till  you  have  to  turn  up  to  the 
Hove  station." 

She  left  the  window  quite  down  and  breathed 
in  the  fresh  cold  air  in  deep  draughts.  Then 
she  read  the  letter  over  and  over  again.  There 
was  hope — hope  for  him — hope  ! 

She  could  not  lean  back ;  all  her  muscles 
were  tightened  and  her  nerves  were  strung  up; 
her  thoughts  worked  at  high  pressure.  She 
watched  the  lights  as  she  glided  past  them. 
She  felt  the  car  turn  abruptly  down  towards  the 


TWO  SINNERS  257 

sea,  and  very  soon  they  were  on  the  parade  in 
front  of  Sussex  Square.  She  peered  keenly  at 
the  windows  of  their  old  lodgings  as  she  passed — 
lodgings  where  so  much  had  happened.  There 
were  lights  in  their  windows !  Alas,  alas,  no 
Ursula  there — that  dimmed  the  joy — that  memory 
must  always  dim  her  joy.  Once  she  put  her 
head  out  of  the  window  and  looked  at  the  sea. 
It  was  making  a  fretful  sound,  dragging  at  the 
steep  shingled  beach  and  before  her  lay  miles  of 
curving  lights  stretching  away  to  Hove  and  then 
dimly  on  to  the  ancient  basin  of  Aldington  and 
on  to  the  harbour  of  Portslade.  She  drew  in 
her  head  and  sat  back  in  her  corner.  They 
passed  the  first  pier,  crowded  with  lights ;  then, 
as  they  went  on,  they  passed  the  last  pier ;  it 
was  almost  in  darkness.  They  reached  Hove 
and  now  Maud  closed  the  window  towards  the 
sea  and  opened  the  other  window,  and  sitting 
close  at  it,  watched  for  Princes  Hotel.  Was 
his  room  facing  the  sea  ?  Which  of  the  lighted 
windows  would  be  his  ?  Here  was  the  hotel — 
full  of  lights — which  was  his  ?  The  car  sped  past 
the  hotel.  It  was  gone  and  Maud  sank  back 
into  her  corner.  Did  he  know  that  Ursula  had 
passed  away  ?  Was  he  well  enough,  strong 
enough  to  be  told  any  news  ?  Was  he  being 
nursed  well  enough  ?  Would  they  keep  him 
quiet  enough  ?  Would  they  really  save  him  every 
shock,  every  unnecessary  emotion?  Oh,  she  would 
not  trust  them !  They  might  do  something 
foolish,  something  neglectful  and  he  would 
perhaps  suffer  for  it  for  the  rest  of  his  life ! 

3 


258  TWO  SINNERS 

London  was  so  far  from  Hove.  She  had  never 
thought  of  that  before ;  it  was  cruelly  far  off  ! 
Supposing  he  had  a  relapse,  if  such  a  thing  was 
possible  in  his  case — suppose  he  were  to  die  after 
all — or  suppose  he  was  never  to  become  really 
well  ?  But  Fitzherbert  had  said  that  the  doctors 
were  satisfied ;  that  sounded  as  if  he  might 
recover  completely — if  only  he  was  being  nursed 
properly  !  He  was  having  done  for  him  all  that 
wealth  could  do.  There  was  a  sting  in  those 
words  of  Fitzherbert' s.  Love  can  do  so  much 
more  than  wealth,  and  Lionel  had  no  one  watch- 
ing over  him  who  loved  him.  A  hired  nurse 
might  omit  something  important — she  wouldn't 
see  all  that  was  wanted  with  the  thousand  eyes 
of  love ;  she  would  not  think  with  the  subtle 
ingenuity  of  love  of  all  the  possible  ways  of 
averting  danger !  It  was  Maud's  own  fault 
that  he  was  there  alone  with  only  nurses.  If 
she  had  been  able  to  love  him  she  would  have 
been  there  looking  after  him  ;  if  she  had  under- 
stood all  that  was  best  in  him,  instead  of  seeing 
only  his  faults,  she  would  have  been  there 
watching  over  him ! 

The  taxi  turned  inland  and  in  a  few  minutes 
it  stood  at  the  Hove  railway  station.  Maud 
got  oat  slowly  ;  the  porter  told  her  that  she  had 
only  three  minutes  to  spare,  but  she  did  not 
hasten.  She  bought  her  ticket  and  got  into  the 
train  just  as  it  was  starting. 

She  sat  back  in  her  corner  and  began  to 
think  again.  How  could  she  ever  make  Lionel 
respect  her  again?  He  had  trusted  her,  and 


TWO  SINNERS  259 

then  found  she  wasn't  to  be  trusted !  There 
came  back  to  her  a  vivid  picture  of  that  last 
afternoon  at  Brown  Street.  She  saw  again  the 
look  that  Lionel  had  given  her  when  he  was 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  drawing-room. 
She  remembered  the  exact  tone  in  which  he  had 
told  her  that  he  was  going  to  sing  something 
for  her  alone  that  the  others  would  not  under- 
stand. Then  that  song — that  hymn. 

Now  she  understood  his  profound  sympathy, 
his  keen  desire  to  read  the  world  with  her  eyes. 
Simply  for  her  sake  he  was  trying  to  think  with 
her  thoughts. 

If  Ursula  had  heard  that  song — sung  as  he 
sang  it — she  would  have  known  at  once  the  love 
that  lay  behind  it.  And  with  these  thoughts 
crowding  into  her  brain  Maud  drifted  farther 
and  farther  into  the  darkness,  away  from  the 
man  who  was  lying  so  still  in  his  room  at  the 
Princes  Hotel.  Fitzherbert  had  said,  "  Write,  if 
you  have  anything  to  say  !  "  Anything  to  say  '? 

Maud  found  pencil  and  paper  and  began  to 
write.  When  she  got  home  she  would  copy  it 
out  in  ink  and  have  it  posted  at  once.  It  would 
reach  Father  Fitzherbert  at  Brighton  on  Sunday 
morning. 

What  she  wrote  was  : 

"  DEAR  FATHER  FITZHERBERT, 

"  Thank  God  for  your  news  but  you 
send  me  no  details,  and  I  am  still  so  anxious. 
"  Yours  sincerely, 

"  MAUD  MONCKTON." 


CHAPTEE  XXIII 

FOR  the  time  being  Stella's  domestic  troubles 
seemed  to  be  providentially  lightened.  She  was 
so  much  softened  by  her  grief  at  Ursula's  death 
and  so  grateful  to  the  memory  of  the  dead  that— 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life — she  felt  passionately 
eager  to  give  somebody  pleasure. 

A  brilliant  idea  occurred  to  her.  It  was  so 
brilliant  and  so  obvious  that  she  wondered 
whether  Maud  might  not  think  of  it  too  and 
forestall  her.  In  order  to  make  this  impossible 
she  put  her  idea  into  objective  reality  with  no 
delay,  and  about  a  week  after  their  return  from 
Rottingdean  Stella  arrived  at  No.  2,  Brown 
Street,  looking  very  handsome  and  mysterious 
in  her  black  hat  and  veil  and  carrying  with 
some  innocent  ostentation,  under  her  arm,  a  small 
basket. 

With  the  insight  born  of  much  previous 
suffering,  Jackson  perceived  that  the  basket 
contained  a  future  menace  to  the  peace  of  the 
household  above  and  below  stairs. 

Stella  said,  "  Is  Miss  Maud  at  home  ?  "  and 
her  two  dimples  were  very  deeply  set  in  her 
cheeks  as  she  asked  the  question. 

Yes,  Miss  Maud  was  at  home. 

At  this  Stella  walked  right  into  the  hall, 
basket  under  arm,  and  spoke  softly.  "  I  will 


TWO  SINNERS  261 

run  up  to  her  room  then,"  she  said  to  Jackson, 
"  and  please  tell  her  that  I'm  there  waiting  for 
her."  Stella's  blue  eyes  were  sparkling  and  her 
earrings  swaying  and  her  dimples  were  hard 
set  as  she  ran  upstairs  without  stopping  till  she 
got  to  Maud's  bedroom.  There  she  knocked,  and 
receiving  no  answer  she  burst  in  with  all  haste. 

Jackson,  with  his  figure  stiff  and  his  eyes  stiff 
and  even  his  hair  unsympathetically  stiff,  went 
in  search  of  Maud,  found  her  and  gave  her  the 
hated  information  in  a  voice  of  malignant 
resignation.  It  was  a  voice  that  portended 
evil  and  Maud,  struck  by  the  tone  of  it,  hurried 
upstairs.  When  she  reached  her  room  and 
opened  the  door  she  found  Stella  seated  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor,  holding  a  small  brown 
Pekinese  dog  by  a  leash.  The  basket  in  which 
it  had  been  brought  was  tossed  to  one  corner  of 
the  room. 

"  Stella  !  "  exclaimed  Maud. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Stella,  smiling  hard  under  her 
black  hat.  "Well?" 

"  Is  it  yours  ?  "  asked  Maud,  with  her  eye- 
brows raised. 

"Now  is  it  likely?"  said  Stella.  "You 
know  I  hate  household  pets,  whether  they  are 
cats  or  dogs.  I  can't  abide  them."  She  laughed 
and  snapped  her  fingers  at  the  Pekinese. 

:<  Then  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

Maud  knew  perfectly  well  what  she  was 
going  to  do,  but  she  was  amazed.  Another 
Kiddie !  Stella  might  at  least  have  consulted 
her  wishes  in  the  matter ;  after  all  she  would  be 


262  TWO  SINNERS 

very  deeply  involved  if  there  was  to  be  another 
Kiddie ! 

"  It's  my  present  to  Aunt  Dorothy,"  said 
Stella.  "  She  will  never  have  the  courage  to 
buy  one  herself  and  yet  I  know  she  simply  longs 
for  one." 

"  I  think  you  might  have  told  me,"  said 
Maud. 

"  I  thought  it  would  be  a  lovely  surprise," 
said  Stella,  rather  disappointed. 

"It  is  not  a  surprise,  it's  a  shock,"  said 
Maud. 

The  small  brown-and-black  face  stared  up 
at  her  with  its  bulging  eyes  and  sniffed  into  the 
air. 

"  You  won't  suffer,  Maud,  old  girl ;  it's  a 
silent  kind,"  said  Stella.  "  George  says  it'll 
be  all  right.  He  says  it's  just  the  very  thing  for 
Aunt  Dorothy." 

"  Then  Aunt  Dorothy  won't  care  for  it,"  said 
Maud  promptly  ;  "  you  know  that,  Stella.  She 
prefers  a  dog  that  is  hysterical !  " 

"  She  will  worship  it,"  said  Stella.  "  It's  so 
sweet.  Look  at  its  absurd  face — and  it  says 
nothing." 

"  That's  the  mischief — from  her  point  of 
view."  Maud  knelt  on  the  floor  and  took  up  the 
dog,  who  submitted  calmly,  and  sitting  on  her 
arm  it  now  stared  hard  at  Stella  and  sniffed  in 
her  direction. 

"  It  really  isn't  so  bad,"  said  Maud. 

"  I  knew  you'd  love  it,"  exclaimed  Stella. 
"  It's  got  a  perfect  character.  Now  I  want  you 


TWO  SINNERS  263 

to  go  and  put  it  into  Aunt  Dorothy's  arms, 
saying  that  it  is  a  present  from  me — will 
you?': 

Maud  rose  to  her  feet  with  the  dog  still  on  her 
arm. 

"  I  wonder  whether  she'll  mind,"  said  Maud 
musingly. 

"  She  simply  aches  for  a  dog,"  said  Stella, 
"  only  she  won't  say  so.  I  want  you  to  put  it 
in  such  a  way  that  she'll  feel  forced  to  keep  it. 
You'll  do  that  better  than  I  shall ;  if  I  give  it 
to  her  I  shall  simply  burst  out  laughing  and 
that  won't  do."  Stella  got  up  from  the  floor. 
'  Where  is  Aunt  Dorothy  ?  " 

"  She  is  in  the  writing-room,"  said  Maud, 
still  stroking  the  smooth  small  head.  "It  is 
very  sweet." 

"  I  knew  you'd  say  so  after  you  had  really 
examined  it,"  said  Stella,  shaking  her  earrings. 

"  Aunt  Dorothy  will  corrupt  its  soul  and  send 
it  eventually  to  hell.  She  won't  be  happy  till 
she  has  trained  it  for  the  infernal  regions,"  said 
Maud  softly. 

"  Oh,  to  botheration  with  the  infernal 
regions,"  said  Stella.  "  She  can't  make  it 
shriek  like  a  Pom  ;  it's  not  its  nature." 

!<  It'll  acquire  the  power  of  shrieking  then," 
said  Maud. 

"  It'll  get  too  fat,  that's  all,"  said  Stella. 
"  Come,  Maud,  I  simply  can't  wait  any  longer. 
Let  us  go  downstairs.  I  shall  go  into  the  dining- 
room  and  wait  there  till  you  come  and  tell  me 
how  the  affair  is  going.  I  want  Aunt  Dorothy 


264  TWO  SINNERS 

to  think  I've  gone,  but  you  slip  downstairs  and 
speak  to  me." 

The  two  sisters  went  downstairs  together  till 
they  reached  the  drawing-room  floor ;  then 
Stella  ran  lightly  down  to  the  dining-room  and 
left  Maud  with  the  dog  in  her  arms  just  outside 
the  writing-room  door.  Lady  Dorothy  was 
sitting  at  the  table,  writing.  She  saw  at  a 
glance  what  Maud  carried  in  her  arms  and  she 
stared  through  her  glasses. 

'  What's  that  ?  "  she  called  out. 

"  Oh,  a  kind  of  dog,"  replied  Maud,  looking 
down  at  the  animal  as  if  she  were  not  sure 
whether  it  mightn't  be  something  else — a  sort 
of  a  cat,  perhaps. 

"  Take  it  away,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  lady 
firmly. 

"Take  it  where,  Aunt  Dorothy?  It's  a 
great  nuisance,  but  Stella  has  left  this  as  a 
present  to  you.  It's  bought  and  paid  for.  I 
suppose  you  will  have  it  returned  to  Stella  and 
you  know  the  kind  of  stepmother  she  will  be  ; 
she'll  stuff  it  the  first  day  and  then  leave  it  to 
starve.  I  wash  my  hands  of  it.  I  really  can't 
be  responsible  for  it."  Maud  placed  the  dog 
on  the  table,  where  it  sat  and  stared  hard  at  Lady 
Dorothy,  sniffing  towards  her  as  was  its  nature 
to  do. 

Lady  Dorothy  looked  intently  at  the  dog 
through  her  glasses. 

"We  don't  want  a  dog,"  said  Maud.  "I 
told  Stella  that,  but  it  was  too  late ;  she'd  got 
it.  I  wish  she  had  consulted  us  beforehand. 


TWO  SINNERS  265 

Are  you  going  to  put  it  in  the  waste-paper  basket 
or  burn  it  ?  " 

The  dog  took  a  step  nearer  to  Lady  Dorothy 
and  then  moved  carefully  over  the  blotter  and 
stepped  down  on  to  her  lap — merely  because  it 
was  the  most  obvious  way  of  finally  reaching 
the  floor. 

"  Well,  little  orphan,"  said  Maud,  putting  out 
her  hand  to  stroke  it,  "  shall  we  send  you  back 
to  your  stepmother  or  consign  you  to  the 
fire  ?  " 

Lady  Dorothy's  soul  was  full  of  conflicting 
emotions.  A  sense  of  the  impropriety  of  allow- 
ing a  new  dog  to  sit  on  her  lap  battled  with  her 
desire  to  have  a  dog  sitting  on  her  lap — especially 
a  very  small  dog. 

Maud  suddenly  moved  away.  "  I  quite 
forgot  that  Stella  has  left  the  basket  lying  about 
and  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  thrown  away ; " 
and  so  saying  she  slipped  out  of  the  room  and 
closed  the  door  behind  her.  She  ran  upstairs  to 
her  room  and  found  the  basket.  Then  she  ran 
downstairs  and  went  into  the  dining-room. 
Stella  was  walking  about  the  room  impatiently. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  asked,  her  face  full  of  excite- 
ment. 

"  It's  sitting  on  her  lap,"  said  Maud.  "  I 
have  told  her  that  if  it  is  returned  to  you  you 
will  forget  about  it  and  starve  it.  I  think  that 
has  made  an  impression." 

"  It  isn't  true,"  said  Stella  indignantly. 
"  But  you  know  that  I  hate  an  animal  in  the 
house ;  it's  always  wanting  something  and 


266  TWO  SINNERS 

it's  always  in  the  way.    Do  you  think  she'll 
keep  it  ?    Does  she  like  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  hopes,"  said  Maud. 

"  Perhaps  I  had  better  go  now,"  said  Stella. 
"  I  don't  want  her  to  find  me." 

"  Take  the  basket  with  you,"  said  Maud. 
''  That  will  help.  I  shall  tell  her  that  you  took 
it  away  with  you." 

"Oh,  what  fun!"  said  Stella.  "  I  do  so 
long  to  know  what  happens."  Stella  took  up 
the  basket  and  went  into  the  hall  with  Maud. 
When  they  reached  the  door  she  turned  to  her 
sister  with  an  expression  of  keen  curiosity  in  her 
face.  '  You  don't  see  the  paper  George  takes 
so  I  have  brought  it  with  me."  Stella  pulled  a 
paper  out  of  her  muff  and  held  it  towards  her 
sister.  "  There  is  something  in  it  I  have  marked. 
How  it  is  we  have  never  seen  anything  before 
I  don't  know — it  just  happens  like  that  some- 
times. Don't  forget  to  look." 

Maud's  face  grew  crimson.  She  took  the 
paper  silently.  There  was  only  one  subject  of 
thought  in  the  world  for  Maud  just  now— only 
one  subject  in  the  "  living  "  world. 

"  You've  seen  it  already  ?  "  demanded  Stella, 
blushing  too  at  the  sight  of  her  sister's  emotion. 

"  There  is  no  relapse  ?  "  she  questioned, 
startled  out  of  her  reserve. 

"  Relapse  ?  No  !  He's  getting  better,"  said 
Stella  as  she  stood  gazing  at  Maud  with  her 
blue  eyes  getting  more  and  more  intense.  ' '  Why, 
do  you  care  ?  " 

Maud  drew  a  long  breath.    If  he  was  getting 


TWO  SINNERS  267 

better  why  had  not  Fitzherbert  sent  her  fresh 
news  ?  She  looked  away  from  Stella's  face  and 
said  :  '''  It  was  Major  Kames  who  looked  after 
Ursula  all  those  last  weeks." 

Stella  stood  amazed.  "  Major  Kames  !  How 
do  you  know,  Maud  ?  " 

Maud  turned  away.  "  I  know  from  some 
writing  that  Ursula  left  behind  her  and  also  I 
heard  from  the  nurse.  I  was  only  waiting  to 
tell  Aunt  Dorothy  till  I  heard  that  Major  Kames 
had  recovered.  I  can't  talk  about  it,  Stella  : 
it  hurts  me,"  and  she  walked  to  the  foot  of  the 
stairs. 

"  I  hadn't  the  faintest  idea,  or  I  wouldn't 
have  spoken,"  said  Stella. 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  said  Maud,  and  she  began 
mounting  the  stairs.  Stella  opened  the  hall 
door  and  went  out  reluctantly.  She  was  leaving 
behind  so  much  that  interested  her.  Anyhow, 
she  had  something  of  interest  to  startle  George 
with  when  he  came  home.  So  Major  Kames 
had  looked  after  Ursula  !  Stella  felt  the  cool 
November  air  keenly  against  her  hot  cheeks. 
After  all,  Major  Kames  must  be  a  gentleman ! 
What  with  the  dog  and  with  this  sudden  dis- 
covery about  Major  Kames,  Stella  had  more 
to  think  about  than  her  brain  would  hold. 
Suppose,  after  all,  something  came  of  it  all.  If 
Maud  was  repenting,  something  would  come  of 
it.  It  would  be  delightful  to  have  a  married 
sister  at  Orpenden  who  would  ask  her  and  George 
to  come  over  continually.  It  would  be  very 
agreeable,  and  as  to  Aunt  Dorothy,  why,  there 


268  TWO  SINNERS 

she  was  with  a  new  dog — what  more  could  she 
want  ?  Stella  almost  bounded  along  in  the 
faint  autumnal  sunshine. 

Alone  in  her  bedroom,  Maud  unfolded  the 
paper  and  searched  for  Stella's  mark.  There  it 
was.  With  a  beating  heart  she  looked  at  the 
short  paragraph.  It  was  very  short  and  con- 
tained less  information  than  she  had  hoped  for  : 
Major  Kames  was  sufficiently  recovered  from  his 
recent  motor  accident  for  the  doctors  to  sanction 
his  removal  to  Orpenden  this  week.  That  was 
all !  Orpenden  was  nearer  to  town  than  Hove. 
Only  thirty  miles  away  !  What  did  "  sufficiently 
recovered  "  really  mean  ?  Did  it  mean  that  he 
was  able  to  move,  to  read,  to  listen  to  conversa- 
tion ?  What  did  it  really  mean  ?  Her  letter 
to  Fitzherbert  begging  for  more  news  had  not 
yet  been  answered.  She  must  write  again — 
at  the  risk  of  displeasing  him  she  must  write. 

A  knock  came  on  her  door  and  she  hastily 
put  away  the  paper.  Eugenie's  face  appeared. 
"  Her  ladyship  wants  you,  Miss  Maud." 

Had  Aunt  Dorothy  just  seen  a  similar  para- 
graph in  the  Morning  Post  ? 

Maud  went  downstairs,  bracing  herself  up 
for  the  interview.  She  meant  to  be  very  calm,  to 
say  as  little  as  possible  and  yet  to  say  all  that 
was  necessary.  She  almost  prayed  that  her 
aunt  would  show  some  reserve  in  her  questions 
and  in  her  remarks,  and  not  say  anything 
dreadful. 

Maud  opened  the  door.  Her  knees  were  a 
little  shaky  as  she  walked  into  the  room ;  she 


TWO  SINNERS  269 

was  painfully  conscious  that  her  face  was  flushed  ; 
her  hands  felt  icy  cold.  Now  the  ordeal  had 
to  be  gone  through.  Lady  Dorothy  had  left 
the  writing-table  ;  she  was  now  seated  by  the 
fire  with  the  Morning  Post  spread  upon  her 
knee.  Upon  a  hassock  beside  her  and  opposite 
to  the  fire  lay  the  Pekinese  in  real  or  simulated 
slumber. 

"  Maud  !  "  called  out  Lady  Dorothy,  without 
turning  her  head. 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Dorothy,"  said  Maud  faintly. 

'  Well,  my  dear,  you'll  never  guess !  "  she 
said,  still  without  turning  her  head. 

"  Not  guess,  Aunt  Dorothy  ?  "  said  Maud. 
"  Perhaps— 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  keep  him !  " 

"  Keep  him !  "  repeated  Maud,  confused  for 
the  flash  of  a  moment. 

"  He  can  never  take  the  place  of  my  darling, 
but  as  Stella  has  paid  for  him  I  scarcely  like  to 
refuse  him." 

Maud  laughed  a  little  huskily. 

"  He's  not  bad,  is  he,  Aunt  Dorothy  ?  "  she 
said. 

"  He's  too  placid,"  said  Lady  Dorothy ; 
"  but  in  spite  of  that  I  think  he  is  intelligent, 
and  we  might  take  him  out  with  us  and  try  him. 
We  can  drive  to  the  Park  and  then  just  walk 
him  about  a  little  and  see  how  he  follows." 

"  He  must  be  kept  on  the  leash,"  said  Maud, 
"  for  a  few  days." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  safer,"  said  Lady 
Dorothy.  "  What  is  his  name,  Maud  ?  " 


270  TWO  SINNERS 

Maud  had  never  thought  of  asking. 

"  I  really  don't  know/'  she  said.  "  Hadn't 
you  better  give  him  one  and  accustom  him  to 
it  from  the  very  beginning  ?  I  suppose  it  must 
be  something  with  a  Chinese  ring  about  it.  I 
can't  think  of  anything  but  Souchong  and  Orange 
Pekoe !  " 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  silence  in  the  room, 
and  then  Lady  Dorothy  spoke  musingly. 

"  I  shall  call  him  Pic-ca-noo-noo,"  she  said. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?  "  asked  Maud. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Lady  Dorothy. 

Maud  was  careful  all  that  morning  and 
indeed  all  the  rest  of  the  day  to  take  no  notice 
of  the  dog  so  as  to  allow  him  to  fall  into  the 
habit  of  considering  Lady  Dorothy  as  his  sole 
and  particular  friend.  He  fell  into  the  empty 
niche  of  Kiddie  with  remarkable  ease,  making 
no  objection  to  sharing  Lady  Dorothy's  siesta 
after  lunch.  He  curled  himself  up  before  the 
fire  as  if  he  had  always  acted  as  her  companion 
on  these  occasions. 

Maud  had  an  interview  with  Jackson  before 
the  tea  was  brought  into  the  drawing-room. 

"  Jackson ! "  she  said,  "don't  bring  up 
Kiddie's  tea-cup ;  Pic-ca-noo-noo  can  drink 
out  of  an  ordinary  cup." 

"  The  ordinary  cups  aren't  shallow  enough, 
Miss,"  said  Jackson,  with  a  weary  loathing  of  the 
name  Pic-ca-noo-noo. 

"  Never  mind.  Let  her  ladyship  settle  the 
matter  herself.  You  know,  Jackson,  you'll  get 
quite  reconciled  to  Pic-ca-noo-noo,"  said  Maud, 


TWO  SINNERS  271 

pronouncing  the  name  very  emphatically. 
"  He's  an  immense  moral  improvement  on  poor 
Kiddie.  You'll  get  to  love  Pic-ca-noo-noo, 
Jackson." 

Jackson  bridled  at  the  word  "  love."  "  I'm 
sure  I  hope  he'll  continue  to  be  an  improvement, 
Miss,"  was  all  he  would  admit  and  he  did  so 
gloomily. 

'  Well !  "  said  Lady  Dorothy,  during  the 
quiet  evening  as  they  sat  by  the  fire.  Maud  was 
reading  a  book  and  Lady  Dorothy  pretending 
to  sew  but  really  examining  the  new  pet  on  her 
lap.  '  Well,  we  must  get  a  special  cup  to- 
morrow, Maud,  and  by  the  way  Stella  must  be 
thanked.  I  think  I'll  just  go  and  write  her  a 
line.  After  all,  it  was  so  kindly  meant  though 
of  course  Stella  knows  quite  well  that  nothing 
can  really  take  the  place  of  my  poor  darling." 

Lady  Dorothy  felt  that  fidelity  to  the  past 
required  her  to  repeat  this  formula  to  other  people. 

"  No  other  dog  could  replace  Edddie,"  said 
Maud  enigmatically. 

'  What  do  you  say  ? "  asked  her  Aunt 
Dorothy  a  little  sharply  as  she  crossed  the  room. 

"  I  said,  Aunt  Dorothy,  that  no  other  dog  could 
replace  Kiddie.  You  know  what  the  poet  says  ? 

"  The  earth  ia  ample  east  and  west, 
But  two  may  not  walk  abreast." 

"  Oh,  you  and  your  poets !  "  grunted  Lady 
Dorothy,  and  she  walked  off,  but  she  had 
Pic-ca-noo-noo  on  her  arm.  The  last  post  had 
just  come  in  and  there  was  no  letter  from 


272  TWO  SINNERS 

Fitzherbert.  Maud  went  upstairs  to  her  room. 
In  a  drawer  lay  a  letter  to  Fitzherbert  already 
written  and  stamped  and  addressed  to  him  at 
his  London  address,  but  the  envelope  was  not 
sealed.  Maud  pulled  the  paper  out  and  read  it : 

"  DEAR  FATHER  FITZHERBERT, 

"  I  see  in  the  papers  that  he  is  going  to 
be  removed  to  Orpenden.  Your  silence  makes 
me  afraid  that  this  report  is  not  correct,  or  that 
it  does  not  mean  a  real  recovery. 

'  Yours  sincerely, 

"  MAUD  MONCKTON." 

There  was  nothing  that  she  intended  to  add 
to  this  brief  letter.  It  expressed  all  that  she 
wanted  to  express.  She  put  the  paper  back 
into  its  envelope  and  sealed  it.  Surely  it  would 
bring  an  answer.  Then  she  went  down  to  the 
drawing-room  again  and  sat  pretending  to  read, 
but  really  listening  for  Jackson's  entrance. 
Fitzherbert  would  get  the  letter  by  the  first 
post  to-morrow,  and  a  reply  might  come  before 
the  evening. 

And  so  Maud  waited  with  great  patience  till 
the  following  evening,  but  the  post  brought  no 
answer.  The  next  day  passed  slowly  away  and 
still  no  answer  came,  and  the  next  after  that ! 
If  only  she  had  not  "  promised  "  to  do  nothing, 
she  could  have  sent  a  formal  request  for  news 
to  the  housekeeper  at  Orpenden. 

It  was  on  the  third  evening  after  she  had  sent 
her  last  letter  that  she  began  to  be  seriously 
alarmed  at  Fitzherbert's  persistent  silence. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

WHAT  has  a  dim  religious  light,  the  mysteries  of 
Gothic  arch  and  groined  roof,  the  glimmer  of 
lights,  the  ascending  cloud  of  incense,  the  swift 
and  subtle  music,  the  subdued  voices  and  the 
prostrate  worshippers — what  has  all  this  to  do 
with  the  problem  of  human  life  ? 

In  old  days  Maud  would  have  answered  this 
question  without  hesitation  ;  she  would  have 
answered  that  all  this  has  very  little  to  do  with 
the  problem  of  human  life. 

It  certainly  has  very  little  significance  to  the 
harried  speculator  of  the  Stock  Exchange,  whose 
breathless  scramble  for  "  more  money  "  is  the 
chief  contribution  he  offers  to  the  solution  of  the 
human  problem. 

It  is  certainly  of  little  significance  to  those 
"  men  and  women  of  the  world  "  who  are  occupied 
in  swelling  the  number  of  their  pleasures  as  their 
contribution  to  the  human  problem. 

To  all  who  feel  confident  that  because  there 
is  neither  hell  nor  heaven  there  is  therefore  no 
need  for  religion,  it  has  as  much  and  no  more 
significance  than  has  a  season  ticket  to  an 
exhibition  that  is  now  closed. 

To  Lady  Dorothy  it  had  a  significance  vaguely 
connected  with  safety  in  the  next  world,  but 
this  significance  was  only  apparent  on  Sunday 

T 


274  TWO  SINNERS 

mornings  at  eleven  o'clock,  an  hour  that  lay 
conveniently  between  breakfast  and  lunch. 

On  other  days  and  at  other  hours  she  was 
shrewdly  suspicious  of  churches,  of  religious 
ceremonials,  even  of  private  meditation,  because 
time  that  ought  to  be  "  employed  "  in  the  society 
of  Noonoo  and  of  afternoon  callers  ought  not 
to  be  "  wasted "  on  devotional  exercises.  In 
short,  she  was  doubtful  whether  any  ecclesi- 
astical barrier  ought  to  be  raised  between  herself 
and  the  Eternal  Source  of  Light  except  on  Sunday 
at  morning  service  (with  the  Litany)  at  a 
moderately  Evangelical  place  of  worship.  Fortu- 
nately for  Maud,  Lady  Dorothy  was  not  one  of 
those  elderly  ladies  who  are  possessed  by  a 
sinister  activity  or  by  a  passion  for  ceaseless 
desultory  conversation.  Unlike  many  of  her 
sex,  she  allowed  her  companion  to  read,  and  she 
was  at  the  present  moment  so  much  absorbed 
in  her  efforts  to  make  Noonoo  behave  badly  and 
thereby  acquire  a  rich,  free  personality,  that 
Maud  found  opportunities  of  slinking  out  of 
the  house,  full  of  a  secret  shame  at  doing  some- 
thing unaccustomed.  There,  in  the  dim  aisle 
of  a  neighbouring  church,  she  could  be  alone 
and  give  herself  up  to  the  task  of  searching 
within  her  own  soul  for  that  God  for  whom  she 
longed,  the  God  of  Ursula  and  of  Fitzherbert. 
And  was  the  search  hopeless  ?  She  hoped  as  a 
wrecked  sailor  hopes  for  a  passing  ship. 

How  immeasurably  far  from  us  are  ultimate 
things  !  We  creep  forward  slowly  in  our  spiritual 
evolution  as  we  do  in  every  field  of  thought. 


TWO  SINNERS  275 

How  many  centuries  did  it  take  us  to  rise  from 
the  confident  propitiation  of  strange  stocks  and 
stones  to  the  height  of  that  despairing  cry  of 
St.  Augustine :  that  when  man  realises  that 
he  cannot  apprehend  God,  then  he  apprehends 
Him  best.  Alas !  we  are  at  the  mercy  of  our 
sensations,  our  perceptions,  our  ideas ;  they 
are  the  source  of  all  our  error  and  the  only 
criterion  we  have  of  truth. 

Meanwhile  the  days  went  by  heavily  for 
Maud,  for  no  answer  had  as  yet  come  from 
Fitzherbert.  She  was  almost  at  the  end  of 
her  patience  when  at  last  a  letter  arrived  at 
lunch-time.  She  saw  the  handwriting  at  once 
and  allowed  the  letter  to  remain  unopened  until 
Lady  Dorothy  went  upstairs  for  her  usual  after- 
noon slumber.  Then  Maud  went  into  the  draw- 
ing-room, pulled  a  chair  near  to  the  fire  and 
sat  down  deliberately  to  open  her  letter.  She 
meant  to  read  its  contents,  whatever  they  might 
be,  with  absolute  calm.  The  letter  consisted 
of  a  page  of  Fitzherbert's  small,  neat  writing : — 

"  DEAE  Miss  MONCKTON, 

"  There  is  no  further  need  for  you  to 
be  anxious  about  the  health  of  Major  Kames  " — 
(here  Maud  drew  a  very  long  breath,  a  rather 
palpitating  breath,  notwithstanding  her  intention 
of  being  calm).  "  He  has  practically  recovered 
from  the  injuries  to  his  spine  ;  they  proved  to  be 
much  slighter  than  was  at  first  thought. 

"  He  has  also  recovered  from  the  shock,  but 
I  am  sorry  to  say  that  the  doctors  have  now 


276  TWO  SINNERS 

discovered,  what  had  escaped  their  notice  before, 
owing  to  the  difficulty  of  examining  him,  some 
sort  of  injury  to  the  right  leg  that  cannot  be  reme- 
died without  incurring  risks  that  they  are  not  pre- 
pared to  advise.  Major  Kames  may  always  be  a 
little  lame :  that  is,  it  is  probable  that  he  may 
not  be  able  to  walk  again  without  the  aid  of  a 
stick.  When  he  first  recovered  consciousness 
after  his  accident  and  was  told  that  he  might 
be  disabled  for  some  weeks,  he  sent  a  message 
to  his  Committee  offering  to  resign  his  seat,  but 
his  resignation  was  refused.  Meanwhile  a  pair 
has  been  found  for  him  and  the  doctors  hope 
that  his  lameness  will  be  slight  enough  to  allow 
of  his  taking  up  his  Parliamentary  duties  shortly. 
"  Believe  me,  your  sincere  friend, 

"JAMES  FITZHERBERT." 

Maud  leant  back  in  her  chair,  the  letter 
lying  on  her  knees.  One  sentence  stood  out 
clearly  from  the  rest :  "  Major  Kames  may  not 
be  able  to  walk  again  without  the  aid  of  a  stick." 

Lionel  Kames  would  never  be  able  to  hunt 
again.  He  would  never  be  seen  again  striding 
loosely  along  the  Parade  at  Brighton  with  his 
slight  slouch ;  he  would  never  be  able  to  run 
easily  up  those  half-dozen  great  shallow  steps 
at  Orpenden  House. 

Even  if  he  were  ever  again  to  come  to  No.  2, 
Brown  Street,  he  would  have  to  mount  these 
stairs  to  the  drawing-room  slowly,  holding  on  to 
the  balusters  with  his  left  hand  and  using  his 
stick  with  his  right. 


TWO  SINNERS  277 

Maud  found  herself  picturing  Kames  walking 
to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  beginning  to  mount 
them.  In  imagination  she  walked  in  front  of 
him,  looking  back  at  his  face  as  he  came  up  one 
step  at  a  time  slowly.  She  could  see  his  face, 
looking  as  it  did  that  night  after  they  had  come 
back  from  the  theatre ;  she  could  see  his  lips 
move  and  hear  him  say  words  that  had  since 
haunted  her  persistently : 

'  If  we  knew  ourselves  as  we  really  are  we 
should  die  of  laughing — or  go  mad." 

So  much  absorbed  was  she  in  her  thoughts 
that  she  did  not  notice  steps  outside  the  drawing- 
room  door,  nor  did  she  hear  the  door  open.  The 
sound  of  Jackson's  voice  broke  in  upon  her 
harshly  and  unexpectedly. 

"  Mr.  Broughton !  " 

Maud  jumped  up  from  her  chair.  Broughton 
was  alone. 

'  You  were  asleep  ?  "  he  questioned.  "  I 
am  sorry  I  disturbed  you." 

"  I  wasn't  asleep,"  said  Maud,  clasping  her 
letter  and  trying  to  look  unconcerned.  "  I  was 
— only  thinking." 

'  Thinking  hard  ?  "  said  her  brother-in-law. 
Had  she  been  thinking  of  Ursula  ? 

Maud  reseated  herself  and  asked  if  Stella  was 
well. 

"  Perfectly  well,"  said  Broughton.  looking 
about  the  room  as  if  to  seek  for  a  chair  which  he 
couldn't  find.  Then  he  suddenly  left  off  looking 
and  took  a  chair  quite  near  to  Maud  and  sat 
down  on  it. 


278  TWO  SINNERS 

'  You  and  Stella  are  coming  in  to  dinner 
to-morrow  as  usual  of  course,"  said  Maud,  now 
becoming  conscious  that  her  brother-in-law  was 
not  in  his  usual  spirits.  She  guessed  that  his 
visit  was  purposely  early  and  that  he  had  come 
to  speak  about  something — something  trouble- 
some— to  judge  by  the  look  in  his  eyes  as  he 
turned  them  towards  her. 

Was  it  about  domestic  difficulties  ?  Maud 
had  never  examined  Stella's  bills  nor  looked 
over  her  housekeeping  accounts — such  as  they 
were — nor  had  she  gone  into  the  question  of 
meals  that  would  be  suitable  for  an  overworked 
husband.  The  prospect  of  having  one  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds  a  year  in  addition  to  their 
present  income  had  banished  from  Stella's  mind 
all  misgivings  as  to  the  future. 

She  felt  sure  that  she  would  now  have  plenty 
of  money  for  everything — more  than  enough 
considering  her  really  very  economical  manage- 
ment. There  was  therefore  no  need  for  Maud 
to  interfere ;  in  fact  Stella  had  mentioned  her 
doubts  whether,  after  all,  any  one  woman  can 
realise  the  domestic  problem  of  any  other  woman 
and  that  therefore  the  most  sensible  course  for 
Maud  to  take  was  to  take  no  course  at  all  and 
to  retire  modestly  from  any  attempt  to  muddle 
things. 

Maud,  thus  admonished,  had  not  mentioned 
the  subject  again. 

Had  George  come  to  re-open  the  subject  ? 

'  You  and  Stella  are  not  golfing  this  after- 
noon ? "    asked    Maud.      Somehow    the    word 


TWO  SINNERS  279 

"Stella"  would  come  into  every  sentence  she 
uttered.  "  Ought  you  to  lose  Saturday  afternoon, 
George  ?  " 

"  I  can't  always  manage  it,"  he  replied. 
"  I've  promised  to  take  Stella  to  see  this  new 
piece  at  the  Court  this  evening  and  I  ctin't 
manage  that — and  golf — and  the  train  there 
and  back — and  my  morning's  work  at  the 
Laboratory." 

Maud  saw  how  tired  he  looked  already  with 
the  work  of  the  week  behind  him. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  in  a  doubtful  tone. 

"  And  if  we  move,  golf  will  be  a  little  less 
accessible  than  it  is  now,"  and  he  laughed 
slightly. 

So  this  was  what  he  had  come  to  speak  about  ? 
Stella  wanted  to  move  ?  She  wanted  a  larger 
flat  in  a  more  central  position  ? 

"  Stella  wants  to  move  ?  "  suggested  Maud. 

"  She  doesn't  like  Hampstead,"  said 
Broughton. 

"  But  I  thought  you  went  there  because  of 
your  health,"  said  Maud. 

"  Yes,"  said  Broughton.  "  But  I  am  quite 
well." 

Now  that  he  was  no  longer  flushed  by  his 
brisk  walk  in  the  cold  air,  the  tired  look  under  his 
eyes  came  out  prominently  and  the  leanness  of 
his  jaw  was  marked.  He  was  still  handsome 
and  distinguished,  but  his  youth  had  gone : 
what  a  contrast  he  and  his  wife  were !  She 
blooming  like  a  rose,  unaware  of  responsibility, 
undertaking  nothing  that  required  concentration 


280  TWO  SINNEES 

of  mind  or  which  entailed  fatigue.  He  already 
beginning  to  be  seared  by  the  strain  of  work 
and  anxious  thoughts  about  the  present  and  the 
future. 

"  Do  you  want  to  move  ?  "  asked  Maud 
point-blank. 

Broughton  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"  I  am  not  keen  about  it ;  it's  different  for 
me.  I  don't  mind  our  sitting-room  being  small 
or  the  fact  that  we  are  not  near  anybody." 

Maud's  eyes  dropped. 

"  The  fact  is,  Maud,"  said  Broughton,  his 
voice  a  little  askew,  "  I  believe  that  Stella  would 
be  willing  to  stay  where  we  are  if  she  had  more 
outlet  for  her  energies."  Here  he  gazed  at 
Maud  with  wide-open  eyes.  "  Our  sitting-room 
is  too  small,  Stella  can't  sing  in  it  and  there  is 
no  room  for  an  audience.  From  her  point  of 
view  the  room  is  absurd." 

Maud  met  his  eyes  as  she  sat  thinking  deeply. 

"  You  see,"  continued  Broughton, "  it's  rather 
hard  on  Stella.  She  has  given  up  a  career  for 
my  sake  and  I  naturally  want  her  to  suffer 
as  little  as  possible." 

"  Given  up  a  career  ?  "  repeated  Maud. 

"  A  career  of  music,"  he  said  quietly.  "  A 
career  in  which  she  would  have  been  able  to 
distinguish  herself,  express  her  own  genius  and 
realise  her  true  self.  Now  she  is  like  a  caged 
bird,  unable  to  spread  its  wings  and  fly." 

Stella's  true  self  expressed  in  her  own  genius ! 
Maud  was  filled  with  amazement !  Possibly 
Stella  might  have  got  a  post  as  chorus  girl  on 


TWO  SINNERS  281 

account  of  her  great  good  looks,  but  that  was 
more  a  matrimonial  career  than  a  career  in  art. 
George  Broughton's  generous  sympathy  and 
reverence  for  his  wife  was  very  beautiful,  or, 
thought  Maud,  was  he  trying  hard  to  keep  up 
an  illusion  about  her  that  had  already  begun  to 
fade  ?  Had  he  discovered  that  the  enchanted 
palace  with  its  distant  glint  of  gold  on  nearer 
survey  was  only  the  glitter  of  sunrise  upon  the 
windows  of  a  common  house  ?  Was  he  deter- 
mined to  be  loyal  to  his  romance  in  spite  of  this 
discovery  ? 

"  The  difficulty  of  course  is,"  continued 
Broughton,  leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  crossing 
his  knees  with  studied  quiet,  "  that  we  simply 
can't  afford  a  more  expensive  flat." 

The  "  rights  "  of  those  who  feel  themselves 
born  to  delight  humanity  are  now  restricted  by 
the  severe  conditions  of  the  financial  world, 
by  the  patience  or  lack  of  it  in  the  public.  But 
under  a  system  of  socialism  in  the  future  each 
individual  will,  no  doubt,  claim  from  the  State 
an  education  suitable  to  his  or  her  native  talent. 
May  there  not  be  a  heavy  task,  requiring  a 
superhuman  insight  and  a  stern  moral  courage, 
awaiting  those  members  of  the  bureaucracy 
whose  duty  it  will  be  to  judge,  from  an  amazing 
crowd  of  aspirants,  the  few  who  are  likely  to 
acquire  a  mastery  of  the  Arts  ? 

Maud  pondered  for  a  moment  over 
Broughton's  words,  then  a  bright  idea  came 
to  her. 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  Maud,  "  that  if  Aunt 


282  TWO  SINNERS 

Dorothy  could  be  induced  to  give  parties  and 
let  Stella  sing  at  them,  Stella  would  be  contented 
to  remain  where  she  is  ?  " 

Broughton  uncrossed  his  legs  and  leaned 
forward  rather  eagerly. 

"  I  think  she  would,"  he  said,  "  I  think  it 
possible."  In  fact  this  was  what  he  had  already 
planned  in  his  mind  as  a  way  out  of  the  dilemma. 

"  Then  I  must  try  and  persuade  Aunt 
Dorothy,"  said  Maud. 

Broughton  sat  staring  at  Maud  very  much 
as  a  patient  might  at  a  trusted  doctor  who  has 
just  described  a  remedy. 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  ?  "  he  said.  '  You 
see,  Maud,  the  fact  is  money  difficulties  are  the 
very  deuce !  " 

"  I  know  they  are,"  said  Maud.  "  I've  had 
some  experience  of  them." 

"  I  believe  I  could  do  really  good  work,"  said 
Broughton,  "  if  I  could  only  have  my  mind  free 
from  anxiety."  He  had  not  intended  to  say 
this ;  the  words  had  sprung  to  his  lips  almost 
automatically,  moved  by  Maud's  rapid  response 
to  his  thoughts. 

A  slight  colour  came  into  his  face.  "  Every 
man,  when  he  marries,"  he  went  on,  trying  to 
cover  his  mistake  rapidly,  "  has  to  face  the  fact 
that  he  is  no  longer  his  own  master."  He  said 
"  every  man "  with  great  emphasis.  "It  is 
just  the  same  for  women  ;  they  have  to  give  up 
much  that  is  precious  to  them  when  they  marry. 
They  can't  do  just  what  they  want  to  do." 

Maud  flushed  a  little.    "  Can't  do  just  what 


TWO  SINNERS  283 

they  want  to  ?  "  she  said,  and  she  began  folding 
up  the  letter  that  was  still  clasped  in  her  hands 
and  put  it  away  in  its  envelope.  There  was 
something  a  little  fierce  in  her  voice,  which  struck 
Broughton. 

'  We  can  always  do  just  what  we  really  can 
do,"  she  added  enigmatically.  Then  she  noticed 
that  Broughton's  hand  wandered  to  his  chin 
and  his  eyes  sought  the  ground  rather  gloomily, 
and  she  felt  a  pang  of  regret  at  her  words.  They 
had  been  uttered  with  a  certain  self-satisfaction 
and  regardless  of  him.  His  burden  would  be 
less  easy  to  bear  if  he  came  to  believe  that  it 
was  an  unnecessary  burden. 

"  I  feel  sure,"  she  said  hastily,  "  that  some- 
thing could  be  done  for  Stella.  Now  that 
Kiddie  has  gone  and  Aunt  Dorothy  is  safely 
provided  with  a  dog  that  doesn't  bark — which 
was  Stella's  doing — 1  don't  see  why  we  shouldn't 
entertain  a  little  more  in  a  modest  way.  Can 
you  keep  Stella  from  taking  any  step  for  a  fort- 
night or  so  ?  That  will  give  me  time.  I  will 
find  some  good  opportunity  of  discussing  the 
subject  with  her." 

Maud  was  keenly  anxious  to  help  him ;  she 
showed  it  in  her  voice  and  manner  and  he  was 
moved  to  speak  his  gratitude. 

When  he  said  "  Good-bye,"  he  stood  holding 
her  hand  for  a  moment  and  looking  as  if  he 
wanted  to  say  something  more.  All  this  time, 
ever  since  he  had  first  met  her,  Maud  had  never 
once  mentioned  Kames's  name  to  him.  He  had 
caught  a  momentary  glimpse  of  the  little  drama, 


284  TWO  SINNERS 

but  it  was  at  the  period  in  his  own  life  when  he 
was  absorbed  by  the  romance  and  uniqueness 
of  his  own  love  affair.  Since  then  he  had  had 
time  to  think  of  Maud,  of  Kames  and  of  Kames's 
relations  with  Ursula  ;  indeed,  Stella  had  lately 
talked  about  them  with  a  persistence  that  had 
been  rather  fatiguing.  Was  this  sympathetic, 
sensible  girl  whose  hand  he  was  holding,  the 
same  girl  who  accepted  and  then  jilted  Kames 
in  cold  blood  ?  As  Broughton  looked  down  at 
her,  he  decided  in  his  own  mind  that,  whatever 
had  happened,  it  could  not  have  been  all  her  fault. 
Anyhow,  there  was  nothing  that  he  had  a  right 
to  say  even  by  way  of  sympathy.  So  he  merely 
pressed  her  hand  closely  and  went  away. 

It  was  a  little  irritating  to  him,  on  his  return 
home,  to  hear  from  Stella  that  she  had  made  up 
her  mind  to  "  find  out "  whether  Lady  Dorothy 
was  still  being  "  kept  in  the  dark  "  about  Major 
Kames. 

"  Don't  interfere,  Stella,"  he  said,  gently 
but  firmly.  "  Let  Maud  manage  her  own  affairs." 

He  could  not  have  chosen  words  which  would 
have  aroused  Stella's  moral  disapproval  more 
keenly. 

;'  It's  not  that  I  want  to  interfere,  as  you  so 
politely  put  it,"  she  said,  "  but  I  have  what  you 
haven't,  my  dear  boy — some  interest  in  other 
people's  lives ;  and  as  to  its  being  Maud's 
affair,  it  isn't  her  affair  at  all.  Major  Kames's 
accident  is  public  property  and  it  would  be 
only  just  to  him  and  to  the  memory  of  dear 
Ursula  to  let  Aunt  Dorothy  know  that  Major 


TWO  SINNERS  285 

Kames  was  kind  to  her  when  she  was  dying. 
So  I  mean  to  tell  Aunt  Dorothy  to-morrow." 

Broughton  looked  at  his  wife.  They  were 
sitting  in  their  tiny  drawing-room.  The  piano 
was  open  and  the  music  scattered  about.  Stella's 
feet  were  upon  the  fender  ;  the  large  coffee  stain 
on  the  carpet  was  conspicuous  at  her  side.  In 
view  of  their  going  to  the  theatre  that  evening 
George  was  to  be  treated  at  seven  o'clock  to 
what  Stella  called  a  "  scramble  meal,"  consisting 
of  tea  and  indigestible  compositions  bought  at 
a  shop.  She  was  full  of  contentment  at  the 
prospect.  Her  earrings  were  swinging  and  her 
eyes  brilliant.  She  was  not  merely  happy  in 
the  anticipation  of  an  exciting  evening,  she  was 
also  glowing  with  a  sense  of  importance,  duty  to 
be  fulfilled  on  the  following  day  (Sunday)  when 
they  went  to  dine  as  usual  at  No.  2,  Brown 
Street. 

"  I  shall  tell  Aunt  Dorothy  to-morrow, 
George,"  she  said.  "  I  really  shall,  dear,"  she 
said,  laughing  with  renewed  good  temper. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

LADY  DOROTHY  had  never  in  the  past  allowed 
Stella  to  smoke  in  her  house :  that  is  to 
say,  Stella  had  smoked  in  her  bedroom.  Now 
that  Stella  crossed  the  old-fashioned  threshold 
of  No.  2,  Brown  Street  as  an  independent  married 
woman,  she  boldly  marched  into  the  library 
behind  the  dining-room  to  join  her  husband  after 
dinner.  There  she  smoked  a  cigarette  hastily, 
and  leaving  her  husband  to  follow  her  later  on 
joined  the  gayer  company  of  the  two  ladies  in 
the  drawing-room. 

On  this  Sunday  evening  she  came  up  even 
sooner  than  usual  and  by  the  most  favourable 
chance  she  found  Lady  Dorothy  alone,  Maud 
having  gone  into  the  writing-room  to  search  for 
a  letter  that  her  aunt  had  mislaid. 

Stella  went  to  the  fire  and  seated  herself  on 
the  fender  stool.  Then  she  plunged  at  once 
in  medias  res,  prefacing  her  story  about  Major 
Kames  with  a  brief  "  Of  course,  you  know,  Aunt 
Dorothy  ?  " 

Lady  Dorothy  didn't  know ;  how  could  she 
know  ?  She  hadn't  heard  a  word  nor  had  she 
seen  any  notices  in  the  paper,  although  she  always 
read  the  paper  through,  excepting  only  the  Parlia- 
mentary, the  Foreign,  the  Learned,  the  Literary, 
the  Legal  and  the  Financial  news. 


TWO  SINNERS  287 

Any  emotion  that  she  might  have  felt  at 
having  been  kept  in  complete  ignorance  was 
swallowed  up  in  the  emotion  she  felt  in  the  news 
itself.  To  hear  anything  of  any  kind  about  the 
long-lost  Major  Kames  was  exciting  enough, 
and  to  hear  that  he  had  been  injured  and  had 
recovered  and  was  actually  about  to  enter  the 
world  of  public  affairs  was  absorbingly  enter- 
taining and  touching.  But  when  Stella  spoke  of 
his  visits  to  Ursula  in  her  illness,  that  took  Lady 
Dorothy's  breath  away. 

What  was  it  that  had  always  attracted  him 
to  poor  Ursula  ?  Heaven  only  knew.  It  was 
a  mystery,  one  of  these  mysteries  that  would 
always  remain  a  mystery.  Lady  Dorothy  had 
confident  expectations  that  at  the  Day  of 
Judgment  what  she  called  "  practical  mysteries  " 
would  be  cleared  up.  She  had  a  vague  impression 
that  the  Recording  Angel,  sitting  on  nothing 
of  course,  because,  in  addition  to  the  mental 
pictures  suggested  by  her  hymn-book,  Lady 
Dorothy  also  held  unconsciously  a  humble  form 
of  the  "  higher  criticism  "  ;  the  Recording  Angel 
sitting  (as  already  described),  would  turn  over 
the  pages  of  his  book  and  read  aloud  to  those 
disembodied  spirits  (in  forms  composed  of  some 
non-material  material  resembling  chiffon)  who 
were  interested,  the  secrets  of  all  the  Ages. 
But  the  mysteries  of  the  heart,  such  as  why 
Major  Kames  admired  Ursula,  belonging  as  they 
did  to  a  region  outside  of  "  actual  facts,"  would 
never  be  disclosed. 

"  And  to  think,"  exclaimed  Lady  Dorothy, 


288  TWO  SINNERS 

"  that  that  attractive  man  was  within  an  inch 
of  being  killed  !  " 

Major  Kames  lying  between  life  and  death ! 
What  if  he  had  died  ?  She  could  almost  picture 
him  "  Beyond  the  Rubicon,"  singing  (without 
a  piano  accompaniment).  Fortunately  that 
painful  mental  picture  was  unnecessary ;  he 
was  alive  and  well. 

Stella  gazed  up  at  her  aunt's  flushed  face, 
at  the  eyes  sparkling  behind  her  eye-glasses. 
Stella  was  much  flattered  at  the  excitement  her 
news  had  caused. 

"  I  thought  you  ought  to  be  told,"  she  said, 
in  a  solemn  voice. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Lady  Dorothy,  "  of  course. 
I  wish  I  had  known  before.  To  think  that  he 
was  lying  so  ill  and  no  one  from  this  house  sent 

•/         \j 

to  inquire." 

"  I  felt  sure  you  ought  to  know,"  said  Stella 
again  very  impressively. 

"  Of  course  I  ought  to  have  known,"  said  the 
old  lady.  "  I  shall  write  to  him  immediately, 
before  I  go  to  bed." 

"  I  couldn't  be  sure,  of  course,"  went  on 
Stella,  "that  Maud  hadn't  told  you,  but  I 
thought  I  ought  to  find  out.  George  didn't  want 
me  to ;  he  wanted  me  to  leave  it  all  to  Maud 
and  to  say  nothing  ;  but  it  appears,  as  I  rather 
suspected,  that  Maud  said  nothingtoyou  about  it." 

"  Fancy  her  not  telling  me !  "  cried  Lady 
Dorothy.  "  It  really  was  too  silly  ;  there  are 
limits  to  that  sort  of  propriety.  I  suppose  it 
was  a  case  of  amour-propre." 


TWO  SINNERS  289 

"  I  am  glad  I  was  right  in  telling  you,"  said 
Stella,  as  she  stroked  Noonoo's  placid  head. 
"  I  am  glad  I  was  right — very  glad !  " 

"  Quite  right !  "  said  Lady  Dorothy.  "  He's 
been  in  a  serious  accident  and  must  be  sympa- 
thised with  and  he  must  also  be  thanked  for 
having  looked  after  Ursula.  I  can't  ask  him  to 
come  and  see  us,  of  course.  Dear  me  !  What  a 
pity  the  whole  thing  is !  If  Maud  remains  an 
old  maid,  which  'pon  my  word  seems  likely, 
she'll  only  have  herself  to  blame." 

Stella  was  going  to  say  once  more, "  I  am  glad 
I  was  right !  "  for  she  felt  that  her  devotion  to 
the  cause  of  duty  had  not  been  sufficiently 
acknowledged,  when  there  came  a  sound  of  some 
one  at  the  door  and  she  said  instead  very 
hastily,  "  Don't  say  anything  just  now  to  Maud, 
please,  Aunt  Dorothy ;  it  would  be  so  awkward 
for  me.  Maud  wouldn't  understand."  But  the 
lady  addressed  had  already  turned  herself  in 
her  chair  at  the  sound  of  Maud's  entrance  and 
she  called  to  her  niece  in  a  voice  that  prophesied 
an  approaching  storm. 

Maud  came  in  and  walked  up  to  her  aunt's 
chair.  There  she  stood  looking  down  at  her 
aunt's  animated  face.  She  guessed  what  was 
coming. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Lady  Dorothy,  "  you 
have  left  me  to  find  out  by  accident  that  Major 
Kames  showed  extraordinary  kindness  to  poor 
Ursula  at  the  last,  when  we  couldn't  be  with 
her — in  fact,  when  we  didn't  know  she  was  ill. 
Also  that  he  has  himself  been  nearly  at  death's 

u 


290  TWO  SINNEKS 

door.  Now  I  call  that  heartless  of  you,  or  else," 
she  added,  relenting  at  Maud's  white  face,  "  or 
else  very  silly,  too  silly  for  a  woman  of  your 
age  who  ought  to  know  something  about  social 
obligations  by  this  time.  We  ought,  of  course, 
to  have  thanked  Major  Kames.  Thanked  him," 
she  repeated,  nodding  her  head  emphatically. 

Maud  stood  silent.  Stella,  very  much  em- 
barrassed, stroked  Noonoo  so  roughly  that  the 
little  animal  rose  up  from  her  lap  and  tried  to 
dodge  away  from  under  the  imprisoning  hands. 

Lady  Dorothy's  vexation  was  already  rapidly 
fading  away  before  Maud's  humility. 

'  We  have  always  avoided  talking  about 
Major  Kames  on  your  account,  but  it  is  going 
too  far,  my  dear,  to  suppose  that  a  man's  name 
must  never  be  mentioned  even  if  he  is  dying 
simply  because  you  don't  want  to  marry  him. 
That's  turning  sense  into  nonsense." 

To  make  the  situation  more  trying  for  Maud, 
the  door  opened  and  Broughton  came  in.  He 
perceived  instantly  that  he  was  involved  in  a 
domestic  scene  and  stood  for  a  second  thinking 
whether  he  could,  without  blame,  go  back  to  the 
library  and  smoke  another  pipe.  But  it  was 
too  late. 

"  George  !  "  called  out  Lady  Dorothy.  "  All 
this  time  I  have  never  known  that  Major  Kames 
looked  after  poor  Ursula,  when  we  didn't  know, 
you  know,  how  ill  she  was.  Just  think,  he  has 
never  been  thanked  !  It  is  more  than  annoying, 
it  is  scandalous  !  " 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Broughton  in  a  con- 


TWO  SINNERS  291 

dilatory  voice, "  of  course  he  ought  to  be  thanked. 
You  ought  to  write  and  thank  him,  Aunt 
Dorothy."  And  he  moved  away  towards  the 
piano  and  began  looking  over  some  old  music 
that  belonged  to  nobody  in  particular,  pieces 
that  had  been  left  behind  by  their  owners  for 
many,  many  years  and  conscientiously  collected 
together  into  a  dismal  heap  by  Jackson. 

At  last  Maud's  lips  moved. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Aunt  Dorothy.  I  didn't 
realise  the  whole  situation,"  she  said. 

"  I  should  think  you  didn't,"  said  Lady 
Dorothy.  "  Fortunately  he  is  quite  well  again. 
He  might  have  died.  Fortunately  he  is  quite 
well  again." 

"  Major  Kames  is  not  quite  well  again," 
Maud  spoke  slowly  and  stiffly ;  "his  right  leg 
was  injured  and  it  is  feared  that  he  may  always 
have  to  walk  with  the  aid  of  a  stick." 

"  How  do  you  know  that,  my  dear  ?  "  de- 
manded Lady  Dorothy.  "  Stella,  you  never 
mentioned  that ! " 

"  A  mutual  friend,  Father  Fitzherbert,  wrote 
yesterday,  telling  me,"  said  Maud. 

Lady  Dorothy  stared  at  her  niece,  and  then 
exclaimed,  "  Dear  me  !  "  Then  she  sank  back 
in  her  chair,  and  Noonoo,  who  had  succeeded  in 
releasing  himself  from  Stella,  came  round  to  his 
mistress's  chair  and  jumped  upon  her  lap. 

"  My  poor  pet !  "  murmured  Lady  Dorothy, 
her  thoughts  still  in  a  whirl  of  excitement  at  the 
news  about  Major  Kames. 

"  Walk  with  a  stick — how  sad  !  "  she  said 


292  TWO  SINNERS 

remorsefully.  "  A  man  of  that  build,  already 
inclined  to  err  on  the  stout  side,  is  bound  to 
grow  very  stout  if  he  can't  take  a  great  deal  of 
exercise :  and  there's  one  thing  a  man  ought 
never  to  get,  nor  a  woman  either,  and  that  is 
stout ! " 

The  pallor  of  Maud's  face  was  suffused  now 
by  a  warm  tint  which  spread  even  to  the  roots 
of  her  hair. 

"  Surely  Major  Kames  can  get  as  stout  as  he 
likes,  Aunt  Dorothy,"  she  said.  '  You  talk  of 
him  as  if  he  were  not  a  human  being !  I  don't 
understand  your  callousness.  It  wouldn't  make 
the  slightest  difference  to  me  if  he  became  very 
stout." 

Having  said  these  words,  Maud  glanced  round 
the  room  with  startled  eyes,  as  if  she  had  heard 
them  pronounced  by  some  one  who  had  just 
come  in. 

"  My  dear  Maud  !  "  exclaimed  Lady  Dorothy. 
Fancy  Maud  talking  about  other  people  being 
callous ! 

Stella  stared  up  from  the  floor  with  open 
astonishment  at  her  sister.  Broughton  coughed 
over  the  music. 

"  I  don't  suppose  he  cares  now  whether  it 
would  make  a  difference.  I  didn't  mean  that," 
said  Maud,  and  she  moved  towards  the  door. 

There  was  a  brief,  strained  silence  in  the 
room.  Then  Broughton  threw  down  the  sheets 
of  music  which  he  was  pretending  to  read  upon 
the  piano  and  strode  towards  the  door  too. 

"  Excuse  me,  Aunt  Dorothy,"  said  Maud, 


TWO  SINNERS  293 

rather  faintly.  "  I  hope  I  haven't  been  rude, 
but  I  am  not  feeling  very  well  and  I'm  frightfully 
stupid.  Good  night !  " 

She  passed  Broughton  with  a  pitiful  attempt 
to  smile,  and  then  with  bowed  head  and  drooping 
shoulders  she  sped  upstairs. 

A  year  and  a  half  ago  she  had  hurried  up 
those  same  stairs  her  heart  and  brain  throbbing, 
but  how  different  were  the  circumstances  now ! 
Indeed,  she  seemed  to  herself  a  different  person. 

When  he  had  closed  the  door  behind  her, 
Broughton  went  up  to  the  two  women  and  stood 
looking  down  on  Lady  Dorothy. 

"  Gracious  goodness  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  How 
extraordinary  Maud  is  !  " 

"  I  can't  congratulate  you,  dear  Aunt 
Dorothy,  on  your  choice  of  a  subject  for  after- 
dinner  speaking,"  he  said  in  the  same  tone  in 
which  he  had  always  expostulated  with  her 
about  Kiddie.  Lady  Dorothy  would  not  have 
endured  that  tone  from  anybody  but  her  nephew. 

"  Maud  has  gone  too  far  with  this  nonsense 
about  never  mentioning  Major  Kames's  name 
again.  Anybody  would  think  he  was  dead 
and  buried,"  she  said  with  some  flash  of  returning 
indignation. 

"  I  thought  I  ought  to  tell  you,  Aunt 
Dorothy,"  began  Stella  again.  "  I  was  sure  it 
was  the  right  thing  to  do."  She  nodded  her 
head  two  or  three  times  at  the  space  between 
herself  and  Lady  Dorothy ;  the  nods  were 
meant  for  her  husband.  She  felt  that  she 
had  spoken  when  the  time  was  ripe,  perhaps, 


294  TWO  SINNERS 

overripe.  As  to  George,  he  showed  a  curious 
obstinacy  at  times,  and  was  capable  of  being 
really  unreasonable. 

During  the  rest  of  that  evening  Lady  Dorothy 
could  speak  of  nothing  else  but  Major  Kames  and 
Ursula,  of  Major  Kames' s  accident  and  of  Major 
Kames's  injured  leg  and  particularly  of  the  cruel 
loss  of  distinction  that  Major  Kames's  figure  would 
probably  suffer  through  lack  of  sufficient  exercise. 
She  refrained,  however,  from  referring  again 
directly  to  Maud ;  she  was  a  little  afraid  of  her 
nephew's  reproof ;  but  her  thoughts  kept  on 
flitting  back  and  back  again  to  Maud's  astonishing 
announcement  that  it  would  make  no  difference 
to  her  if  Major  Kames  became  very  stout. 

No  woman  in  her  senses  could  go  on  admiring 
a  man  as  much  if  he  were  getting  very  stout ; 
it  wasn't  in  human  nature  to  do  so ;  and  Maud 
had  not  admired  him  when  he  was,  comparatively 
speaking,  thin. 

Had  she,  when  it  was  too  late,  when  only 
memories  of  him  were  left  to  her,  fallen  in  love 
with  Maj  or  Kames  ? 

The  old  lady  longed  to  find  out  what  Maud 
really  meant,  if,  indeed,  Maud  knew  what  she 
meant  herself. 

"  I  had  hoped  that  Maud  would  come  down 
again,"  she  said  as  she  rose  with  obvious 
alacrity  at  Stella's  first  movement  to  say  good-bye. 

"  I  expect  she's  gone  to  bed,"  said  Stella ; 
"  she  said  she  wasn't  feeling  well." 

'  Yes,  to  be  sure,  she  said  she  was  not 
well,"  said  Lady  Dorothy,  and  she  tried  to  look 


unconscious  of  her  nephew's  glance.  Was  Maud 
really  in  love  with  Major  Kames  ?  Or  was  she, 
perhaps,  merely  a  little  sorry  for  him  now  he 
was  hurt  ? 

"  I  must  take  up  some  phenacetin  to  her," 
she  said  decidedly.  '  Well,  then,  Stella,  I 
shall  write  to  Major  Kames  at  once  and  say  how 
grateful  we  all  are  for  his  past  kindness  to  poor 
Ursula  when  Maud  and  I  were  away  trying  to 
recruit." 

Lady  Dorothy  uttered  the  last  words  with  a 
touch  of  pathos,  suddenly  remembering  all  the 
sad,  sad  tragedy  of  Kiddie,  and  how  Piccanoonoo 
(whom  she  held  in  her  arms  at  that  moment) 
could  never,  never  take  his  place ;  though  it 
was  indeed  through  no  fault  of  his  own,  poor 
mite ;  he  could  not  help  being  born  contented 
and  gentle,  it  was  not  his  little  fault. 

"  Yes,  please,  say  all  that  is  proper  in  the 
nicest  words,"  said  Stella. 

"  Of  course  I  can't  ask  him  to  the  house," 
said  Lady  Dorothy ;  "  that  would  be  quite 
impossible  and  I  suppose  he  will  often  be  in 
town  now  when  Parliament  is  sitting,"  and  she 
sighed  deeply. 

"  You  can't  ask  him,  of  course,  unless " 

and  here  Stella's  blue  eyes  shone  like  two  polished 
turquoises  and  her  dimples  seemed  actually  to 
twinkle  in  her  cheeks. 

"  Unless  what  ?  "  demanded  her  aunt  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Stella,  going  to 
the  door  ;  "  George  will  be  cross  if  I  say  anything 
about  it.  But  at  least,  Aunt  Dorothy,"  she 


296  TWO  SINNERS 

added,  turning  round  at  the  door  and  waving 
her  good-bye,  "  I  arn  glad  I  spoke ;  I  thought 
it  my  duty  to  tell  you.  I  am  so  glad  I  was 
right." 

As  soon  as  Lady  Dorothy  had  heard  the  front 
door  closie,  she  put  Noonoo  into  his  basket  at 
the  side  of  the  fire  and  besought  him  to  remain 
there  patiently  for  a  few  minutes  while  she  went 
up  to  see  "  poor  Auntie  Maudie." 

Then  the  old  lady  went  upstairs  with  great 
dignity,  making  little  coughs  as  she  ascended. 
She  went  into  her  own  bedroom  for  a  moment 
and  looked  for  her  bottle  of  phenacetin.  Having 
found  it,  she  went  up  another  flight  to  Maud's 
room.  What  a  climb  it  was !  She  waited  to 
get  her  breath  back ;  then  she  knocked  gently 
at  her  niece's  door. 

At  first  there  came  no  reply,  but  in  answer  to 
a  second  knock  Maud's  voice  demanded  :  "  Who 
is  it  ?  " 

"  Aunt  Dorothy,"  said  the  old  lady  rather 
meekly.  One  of  the  most  embarrassing  things 
in  the  world  is  to  answer  quite  simply  the 
question  :  "  Who  are  you  ?  " 

Maud's  voice  answered,  "  Come  in  !  " 

Lady  Dorothy  opened  the  door  and  went  in. 
Maud  was  lying  in  bed  propped  up  by  pillows, 
reading  by  the  light  at  the  head  of  her  bed. 

"  How  is  the  headache  ?  "  asked  her  aunt, 
with  an  attempt  at  cheerfulness. 

Maud's  pale  brown  hair  falling  about  her 
shoulders  in  two  long  massive  plaits  gave  her 
almost  the  air  of  a  sad,  naughty  child.  Her 


TWO  SINNERS  297 

brown  eyes  looked  heavy ;  her  lips  were  a  trifle 
swollen. 

"  I  have  no  headache,  Aunt  Dorothy,"  she 
said. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Lady  Dorothy,  "  then  you  don't 
want  any  of  my  phenacetin  ?  " 

"  No,  thanks,"  said  Maud ;  "  I  don't  need 
any." 

'  You  mustn't  mind  your  old  aunt  scolding 
you,"  said  Lady  Dorothy  blandly.  "  You  must 
remember,  Maud,  that  it  was  a  great  shock  to 
me  to  find  that  everybody  knew  all  about  Major 
Kames  but  myself." 

"  I  am  so  sorry  you  were  vexed,"  said  Maud. 

Lady  Dorothy  moved  to  Maud's  easy-chair 
and  sat  down.  "  I  was  very  cross,  my  dear," 
she  said  briefly.  Then  she  turned  her  face  to 
the  bed  and  blinked  hard  at  Maud.  The  question 
that  had  been  tormenting  her  all  the  evening 
was  on  her  lips ;  she  could  keep  it  back  no 
longer. 

"  Are  you  in  earnest,  Maud  ?  I  mean  about 
Major  Kames."  It  seemed  somehow  like  aiming 
a  pistol  shot  at  Maud.  Would  Maud  fall  down 
on  her  pillow  and  collapse  ? 

"  Yes,"  said  Maud  quietly,  and  she  did  not 
collapse. 

"  You  really  are  ?  "  exclaimed  Lady  Dorothy. 
"  I  mean,  do  you  actually  want  him  to — well,  to 
speak  plainly — to  propose  again  ?  That's  what 
I  mean." 

"  I  understand,"  said  Maud  as  quietly  as 
before. 


298  TWO  SINNERS 

"  And  you  don't  think  that  if  you  saw  him 
leaning  on  a  stick,  you  know — and — getting 
stout — you  would  run  away  as  you  did  before 
when  he  had  a  really  good  figure  ?  " 

Maud  coloured  and  shook  her  head. 

"  Well !  "  exclaimed  Lady  Dorothy,  "  I  am 
amazed !  But  what's  to  be  done  I'm  sure  I 
don't  know."  And  she  waited  for  further 
enlightenment. 

"  Nothing  can  be  done ! "  replied  Maud 
simply. 

"  Nothing  !  Why  not  ?  "  exclaimed  her  aunt, 
who  had  expected  to  hear  Maud  suggest  some 
plan  that  she  would  consider  unsuitable.  But 
Maud  seemed  to  have  no  plan  and  the  old  lady 
looked  disappointed. 

"  I  don't  deserve  to  have  him  now,"  said 
Maud. 

"  Deserve,  child !  What  has  that  got  to  do 
with  it  ?  "  exclaimed  her  aunt.  How  extra- 
ordinarily unpractical  it  was  of  Maud  to  talk 
like  this. 

"  I  don't  suppose  he  would  trust  me  again." 
said  Maud,  closing  the  book  that  she  had  till 
now  kept  open  with  one  finger. 

"  Fiddlesticks  about  trust ! "  said  Lady 
Dorothy.  "  The  only  question  is  whether  he  is 
still  in  love  with  you.  If  he  isn't,  it's  off ;  if  he 
is,  it's  on  again." 

Maud  winced  at  this  way  of  putting  it ;  it 
was  put  as  if  neither  she  nor  Major  Kames  were 
moral  beings. 

"  I  have  given  my  promise,  Aunt  Dorothy, 


TWO  SINNERS  299 

to  be  guided  in  the  matter  by  Father  Fitzherbert," 
said  Maud,  bracing  herself  up  for  the  coming 
storm. 

"  And  who,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  is  Father 
Fitzherbert  ? "  demanded  the  old  lady.  The 
title  "  Father  "  had  escaped  her  notice  before, 
but  now  that  she  was  calmer  she  noticed  it  and 
it  offended  her  Protestant  ears  ;  also  this  avowal 
of  Maud's  roused  her  suddenly  to  j ealousy.  What 
right  had  any  Fitzherberts  to  usurp  her  position 
as  patroness  of  Maud  and  Maud's  affairs  ? 

''  Father  Fitzherbert  knew  Ursula,"  explained 
Maud,  "  and  he  knows  Lionel  and — me." 

"  One  of  the  men  Ursula  used  to  confess  to  !  " 
said  Lady  Dorothy.  "  And  so  Major  Kames 
confesses !  Well,  I  should  have  thought  he 
was  too  sensible  a  man  to  do  anything  so  weak- 
minded." 

Maud  did  not  reply  ;  indeed,  Lady  Dorothy 
did  not  expect  a  reply.  She  was  accustomed  to 
make  statements  of  a  contentious  kind  when 
she  was  annoyed,  statements  that  she  suspected 
were  not  necessarily  true,  which  were  even 
probably  false  but  which  relieved  the  tension 
of  her  nerves. 

"  I  have  just  written  to  Father  Fitzherbert," 
said  Maud,  in  a  low  voice,  as  if  it  cost  her  a 
good  deal  to  speak,  "  to  tell  him  what  I  feel  about 
—Lionel." 

"  You  have  ?  "  burst  out  Lady  Dorothy. 
"  To  this  Fitzherbert  ?  " 

"  I  want  him  to  know,"  said  Maud  slowly ; 
"  but  nothing  will  come  of  it,  Aunt  Dorothy." 


300  TWO  SINNERS 

"  I  should  think  nothing  would  come  of  it," 
exclaimed  the  old  lady,  "  if  you  put  it  into  the 
hands  of  a  priest !  Their  one  idea  is  to  prevent 
marriage.  If  they  had  their  own  way  no  one 
would  bring  children  into  the  world  but  the 
riffraff  at  the  very  bottom,  and  a  fine  state  of 
things  that  would  bring  about !  I  have  no 
patience  with  them !  Is  the  letter  posted  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Maud. 

Lady  Dorothy  turned  and  looked  into  the 
fire. 

"  And  what  do  you  think  he  is  going  to  do 
now  that  he  knows  that  you  want  to  marry 
Major  Kames  ? " 

She  spoke  with  obvious  jealousy. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Maud. 

"  And  don't  care  !  "  said  Lady  Dorothy,  full 
of  vexation.  "  Maud,  you're  the  most  sensible 
woman  in  the  world  except  where  your  own 
happiness  is  concerned." 

"  Father  Fitzherbert  will  do  whatever  is  best 
for  Lionel — and  me,"  said  Maud.  "  Dear  Aunt 
Dorothy,  I  have  reason  to  trust  him." 

"  Oh,  you  think  so  !  "  said  her  aunt.  "  Well, 
I  should  doubt  that.  You  must  remember 
that  it  is  a  year  and  a  half  since  you  broke  off 
the  engagement.  You  don't  know  what  has 
happened  since,  especially  if  he  has  been  ill. 
Why,  at  this  moment  some  little  calculating 
nurse  may  have  been  making  him  promise  to 
marry  her.  Would  you  like  that  to  happen  ?  " 

Maud  did  not  answer. 

Lady  Dorothy  got  up  from  her  chair,  "  My 


TWO  SINNERS  301 

dear,  I  quite  forgot  that  I  promised  Noonoo 
faithfully  that  I  would  come  back  to  him  in  a 
few  minutes,  and  as  you  know,  promises  made 
to  a  dumb  animal  are  like  debts  of  honour.  I 
really  must  go." 

Lady  Dorothy  had  also  obtained  the  informa- 
tion she  had  desired.  It  was  information  of  a 
most  upsetting  kind  that  touched  the  affairs  of 
No.  2,  Brown  Street.  It  needed  much  thought. 
She  came  near  to  the  bed,  bent  over  to  kiss  her 
niece,  and  then  looked  at  her  narrowly  as  if 
she  was  a  new  acquaintance. 

'  I  am  going  to  write  to  Major  Kames  at 
once,"  she  said  quietly,  "  and  I  shall  ask  him 
to  let  me  know  how  he  is.  I  shall  do  that 
much." 

Maud  put  her  arms  round  her  aunt's  neck,  but 
she  made  no  remark. 

"  Is  this  Fitzherbert,"  asked  Lady  Dorothy, 
"  one  of  the  Fitzherberts  of  Adingley  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  said  Maud,  but  she  spoke  as  if 
she  scarcely  heard. 

Lady  Dorothy  walked  to  the  door  with  a 
slight  sniff  of  satisfaction.  "  They're  all  a  little 
mad,"  she  said.  It  was  certainly  a  positive 
proof  of  madness  in  any  individual  that  he  should 
at  this  time  of  day  dress  himself  in  a  cloak  and 
go  about  calling  himself  "  Father." 

Lady  Dorothy  went  downstairs  into  the 
drawing-room  slowly  and  thoughtfully.  Sup- 
pose, after  all,  Maud  was  to  marry  Major  Kames 
and  go  away  and  live  at  Orpenden  ?  Would 
this  empty  drawing-room  be  so  very  desolate  ? 


302  TWO  SINNERS 

A  year  ago  Lady  Dorothy  would  have  thought 
so,  but  into  her  life  had  crept  once  more  a  con- 
genial companionship ;  she  was  not  alone. 
Piccanoonoo  was  waiting  for  her  in  his  basket. 
Not,  it  is  true,  with  those  piercing  shrieks  of 
impatience  that  she  had  loved  so  dearly  and 
which  were  silenced  for  ever,  but  a  little  rogue 
lay  there  banging  his  tail  on  the  side  of  the  basket 
and  staring  at  her  with  his  large  goggle  eyes, 
full  of  satisfaction  at  her  return.  No,  the 
drawing-room  was  not  lonely  after  all,  and  then 
there  would  come  frequent  invitations  to 
Orpenden ;  there  would  be  delightful  short 
visits  to  break  the  monotony  of  winter  and 
spring.  People  had  never  been  eager  to  have 
darling  Kiddie  as  their  guest ;  they  did  not 
understand  his  nature ;  he  was  what  is  called 
"  vital."  Lady  Dorothy  loved  him  for  being 
"  vital."  It  was  Ursula's  lack  of  being  "  vital  " 
as  well  as  her  lack  of  youth  and  beauty  that  had 
made  Lady  Dorothy  indifferent  to  her. 

Lady  Dorothy  loved — so  she  thought — the 
agitating  and  alluring  qualities  of  a  rich,  heady 
personality.  She  was  attracted — so  she  thought 
— by  dear,  warm,  natural  human  nature  with 
its  lovable  spice  of  wickedness.  She  would 
not,  of  course,  have  put  up  with  any  rich  headi- 
ness  in  her  butler  or  her  housemaid  or  in  any 
person  whom  she  employed.  Any  such  wealth 
in  Mrs.  Jackson's  personality  would  have  been 
inconvenient  and  if  she  had  reason  to  suppose 
that  her  family  solicitors  had  any  lovable  spice 
of  wickedness  in  their  nature  she  would  have 


TWO  SINNERS  303 

removed  her  affairs  to  the  care  of  another  firm ; 
but  that — as  people  say — is  different. 

Now  Kiddie's  successor  was  not  "  vital," 
and  yet  he  was  already  popular.  Lady  Dorothy 
could  fancy  herself  writing  off  notes  to  Maud 
at  Orpenden,  saying  this  sort  of  thing  : 

"So  many  thanks — yes,  of  course — then 
please  expect  us  to-morrow  about  four  o'clock.'* 

However  agreeable  these  anticipations  were, 
the  immediate  question  was,  would  anything 
at  all  come  of  Maud's  change  of  mind  ? 

Lady  Dorothy  went  into  the  writing-room 
and  sat  down  at  her  table.  She  began  writing, 
and  had  any  one  been  in  the  room  they  would 
have  seen  her  lips  gradually  shape  themselves 
into  an  affable  smile.  She  was  smiling  as  if  she 
was  actually  addressing  her  correspondent  in 
the  flesh  ;  she  found  it  easy  to  write,  the  words 
flowed  from  her  pen  without  conscious  effort. 
If  only — if  only  she  could  ask  him  to  come  and 
see  her  as  soon  as  he  was  well  enough,  or  if  only 
she  could  propose  to  go  and  call  on  him  at 
Orpenden !  She  felt  a  strong  conviction  that 
if  she  could  actually  see  him  she  could  bring 
about  "  a  happy  conclusion."  And  how  much 
she  would  enjoy  seeing  him  again !  Now,  if 
she  had  been  a  girl  engaged  to  a  charming  man 
like  Major  Kames,  nothing  in  the  wide  world 
would  have  made  her  break  the  engagement 
oft  and  risk  losing  him  for  ever ! 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

MEANWHILE,  upstairs,  Maud  lay  back  on  her 
pillows.  A  book  that  she  had  been  holding  in 
her  hand  had  fallen  upon  the  floor ;  the  lights 
were  still  burning.  She  had  forgotten  every- 
thing but  that  sinister  remark  of  Lady  Dorothy's 
that  some  other  woman  might  at  this  moment 
be  standing  between  herself  and  the  man  she 
had  at  last  learned  to  love.  Time  was  passing 
quickly ;  who  knew  what  might  not  have 
happened  to  Lionel  Kames — what  was  actually 
happening  ?  A  sick  man  is  so  much  at  the  mercy 
of  his  surroundings ! 

"  Nothing  would  come  of  it,"  she  had  said  to 
Lady  Dorothy,  nothing  would  come  of  her  con- 
fession to  Father  Fitzherbert  that  she  had  learned 
to  love  Lionel  Kames  ;  and  yet  as  she  lay  there 
motionless,  her  eyes  fixed  mechanically  before 
her,  Maud  knew  that  she  had  said  those  words 
only  in  self-defence  in  order  to  force  herself  to 
face  a  future  that  she  dreaded.  Deep  down  in 
her  mind  she  hoped  with  a  desperate  energy 
that  her  words  would  prove  false  and  that 
something  would  come  of  it ! 

That  February  afternoon,  a  year  and  a  half 
ago,  when  she  came  by  such  a  strange  chance 
upon  Fitzherbert  and  he  asked  her  if  she  was 
strong  enough  and  tender  enough  to  "  pretend  " 


TWO  SINNERS  305 

to  love  the  man  she  was  engaged  to  marry  — 
that  afternoon  seemed  to  her  now  to  be  a  strange, 
unaccountable  dream.  On  that  night  when 
the  last  sad  intimate  writing  of  Ursula's  had 
stirred  in  Maud's  heart  such  passionate  emotion 
that  the  raging  of  the  storm  outside  was  unheard 
and  forgotten,  on  that  night  a  dormant  element 
in  Maud's  nature  had  come  to  life :  the  power 
of  pity,  and  with  it  new  thoughts  about  the  man 
she  had  rejected  and  a  new  conception  of  the 
relations  of  human  beings  to  one  another,  a  new 
standard  of  duty  and  of  mutual  forbearance. 
As  the  days  accumulated  this  conception  had 
grown  in  strength,  Ursula's  trust  in  Lionel 
became  her  own,  Ursula's  sympathy  for  him 
became  hers ;  she  lived  over  and  over  again 
their  relationship  with  each  other  until  she  was 
seized  with  a  desperate  hunger  for  something 
more  than  the  creation  of  her  own  mind,  a 
synthesis  of  memories ;  she  was  seized  with  a 
desperate  hunger  for  his  actual  presence. 

Her  letter  to  Fitzherbert  had  gone  that  night 
and  he  would  get  it  in  the  morning  if  he  were  in 
town.  She  would  try  to  wait  till  Tuesday 
morning,  and  if  no  letter  came  then  she  would 
wire  and  implore  him  for  an  answer.  She  looked 
at  her  watch  ;  it  was  eleven  o'clock.  It  would 
be  just  possible  for  her  to  hear  by  lunch-time 
to-morrow — fifteen  hours !  Or  she  might  hear 
after  dinner  at  nine  o'clock — twenty-two  hours  ! 
If  she  did  not  hear  before  the  first  post  on 
Tuesday  she  would  have  to  wait  thirty-three 
hours !  That  would  be  the  limit  of  her 


306  TWO  SINNERS 

endurance.  She  had  waited  for  many  days 
patiently,  and  now  even  hours  had  become 
intolerable. 

Even  suppose  that  Fitzherbert  answered 
her  letter  promptly,  he  might  not  propose  to 
help  her  in  any  way.  Although  she  deserved 
no  help  she  was  certain  that  he  would  help  her. 
She  had  no  fear  of  it ;  her  fear  was  that  he  might 
be  away  on  some  fresh  mission  and  that  the 
letter  would  not  reach  him  immediately,  or 
when  it  did  reach  him  it  might  arrive  at  a  moment 
when  he  was  busy.  Above  all,  what  she  chiefly 
feared  was  that  the  whole  matter  might  have 
been  taken  out  of  Fitzherbert's  hands  by  Lionel 
himself  and  that  Lionel  at  that  very  moment, 
believing  her  to  have  forgotten  him,  might  be 
pledging  his  future  to  another  woman.  That 
thought  made  Maud  sick  at  heart. 

Should  she  wire  to  Lionel  to-morrow  morn- 
ing ?  Wire  what  ?  Wire  that  she  had  made  him 
wait  for  nearly  two  years,  but  that  she  could  not 
wait  for  thirty-three  hours  ! 

Apart  from  her  promise  to  Fitzherbert,  which 
must  be  kept,  the  idea  of  thrusting  herself  upon 
Lionel  before  she  had  some  proof  that  he  would 
remember  her  was  repulsive.  Fitzherbert  was 
right  in  telling  her  to  put  the  matter  into  his 
hands — if  only  the  hours  would  pass  ! 

She  must  try  to  sleep,  because  every  hour 
that  she  lay  awake  only  prolonged  her  misery. 
She  put  out  the  light  and  lay  down. 

Maud  lay  with  eyes  fast  shut  and  a  prayer 
upon  her  lips,  shutting  the  portals  of  her  spirit 


TWO  SINNERS  307 

against  the  ominous  Powers  of  the  Night,  and 
soon  after  the  great  bell  that  watches  over  the 
sleeping  city  had  struck  one,  she  fell  into  a  sleep 
without  dreams. 

The  next  morning  she  awoke  with  the  con- 
sciousness that  at  least  one  night  had  been  put 
behind  her.  She  ought  to  be  thankful  for  that. 
A  letter  might  come  before  nightfall.  It  is 
easier  to  be  patient  in  broad  daylight ;  so  much 
may  happen  while  the  sun  travels  slowly 
westward. 

Lady  Dorothy  scanned  her  face  narrowly 
when  she  came  downstairs  to  breakfast. 

"  No  letter  from  Mr.  Fitzherbert  ?  "  she 
said. 

The  remark  was  so  preposterous  that  Maud, 
depressed  as  she  was,  laughed  aloud. 

"  He  will  have  only  just  got  my  letter,  Aunt 
Dorothy,"  she  said. 

'''  Humph  !  "  said  the  elder  lady,  as  if,  never- 
theless, he  would  and  could  have  received  the 
letter  and  replied  simultaneously  had  he  not 
been  going  about  dressed  in  a  cloak  and  calling 
himself  "  Father." 

All  that  day  neither  of  the  two  women  thought 
of  anything  else  but  the  letter — that  did  not 
come. 

Yesterday  Maud  would  have  shrunk  pain- 
fully from  hearing  the  name  of  Lionel  Kames 
pronounced  aloud  by  any  one ;  but  now  it  was 
a  relief  to  her  to  know  that  Lady  Dorothy  shared 
her  secret  and  was  waiting,  too,  to  know  what 
the  future  would  bring. 


308  TWO  SINNERS 

When  letters  were  brought  in  at  lunch  there 
was  no  letter  addressed  in  Fitzherbert's  hand. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Lady  Dorothy  again. 

Maud  smiled  a  little.  "  I  must  wait,"  she 
said,  and  sighed. 

After  dinner  the  same  thing  happened — no 
letter ! 

How  slowly  the  hours  crept  along !  They 
were  at  the  threshold  of  another  night.  This 
would  be  the  last  night.  Maud  went  upstairs 
to  her  room  with  a  fixed  determination  to  wait 
no  longer  than  the  morning.  If  no  letter  came 
then,  she  would  wire  to  Fitzherbert  for  instruc- 
tions. Could  it  be  possible  that  he  was  still 
distrustful  of  her,  was  afraid  that  what  she  loved 
was  an  idealised  portrait,  painted  by  the  glamour 
of  her  own  fancy,  and  that  when  brought  face 
to  face  with  the  real  Lionel  Kames  she  would 
shrink  from  the  actual  personality  of  the  living 
man,  a  man  seamed  with  the  experience  of  half 
a  lifetime  trying  to  retrieve  wasted  time ; 
generous,  but  faulty  ? 

Were  these  Fitzherbert's  thoughts  about  her 
or  had  he  guessed  the  change  that  had  taken 
place  in  her  ?  In  the  old  days  she  could  admire 
or  despise  passionately ;  pity  she  did  not  feel. 
She  felt  it  now — pity  that  is  born  of  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  tragedy  of  all  human  life,  of 
the  community  of  grief. 

It  was  this  pity  that  had  engendered  love, 
and  it  had  grown  little  by  little  until  it  had 
gathered  to  a  torrent — late  in  the  girl's  life— 
just  as  her  youth  was  passing.  Was  it  too  late  ? 


TWO  SINNERS  309 

The  second  night  passed  away — and  the 
morning  came.  The  maid  brought  letters  to 
Maud's  bedside,  but  among  them  was  still  no 
letter  from  Fitzherbert.  Maud  took  paper  and 
pencil,  and  sitting  up  in  her  bed  she  began  to 
compose  a  message.  While  she  was  writing  a 
knock  came  at  her  bedroom  door ;  it  opened 
and  her  Aunt  Dorothy  came  in.  The  cord  of  the 
old  lady's  eye-glasses  was  hanging  loose,  and 
her  dressing-gown  had  been  thrown  hastily  over 
her.  She  had  a  letter  in  her  hand.  Maud  could 
tell  by  her  face  that  Lionel  had  written  it. 

"  A  letter  from  Lionel !  "  she  exclaimed, 
and  Lady  Dorothy  came  straight  to  Maud's 
bed.  Maud  could  see  the  large  handwriting 
which  she  had  in  old  days  despised  because  it 
did  not  look  scholarly.  Her  hand  shook  as  she 
took  the  letter ;  it  was  like  a  letter  from  some 
dear  one  whom  she  had  thought  dead.  She 
opened  it  and  tried  to  read  it.  Tears  ran  down 
her  cheeks,  blotting  out  the  words  and  making 
them  unreadable. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can't  read  it,"  she  said  ;  "  not 
just  now ! " 

Lady  Dorothy  was  much  surprised  and 
disconcerted. 

'  Why,  my  dear,  you  are  upset,"  she  said. 
"  Well,  it's  a  charming  letter,  full  of  tender 
remembrance  of  Ursula  and  gratitude  for  our 
gratitude.  Read  it  some  other  time.  Keep  it !  " 

The  old  lady  nodded  her  head  once  or  twice 
patronisingly,  and  then  she  turned  away  and 
went  to  the  door,  refraining  from  the  remark, 


310  TWO  SINNERS 

"  No  letter  from  Mr.  Fitzherbert,"  which  she 
had  intended  to  make,  in  order  to  drive  home 
the  truth  of  that  clerical  person's  incompetence 
in  affairs  of  the  heart.  For  a  long  time  Maud 
found  herself  unable  to  think  connectedly. 
When  she  could  think  she  sat  up  and  looked  at 
the  telegram  form  on  which  she  had  begun  to 
write.  It  was  on  the  table  by  her  bed.  Only 
her  name  was  needed  to  complete  it.  She  wrote 
her  name,  and  then  a  sudden  and  unaccountable 
impulse  took  strong  possession  of  her  and  she 
took  up  the  paper  and  tore  it  into  small  pieces. 
Then  she  read  that  letter — once,  twice,  many 
times. 

All  that  morning  she  felt  as  if  she  was  living 
in  a  dream.  She  went  out  into  the  morning  air, 
walking  along  by  her  aunt's  side,  quiescent  and 
almost  without  thoughts  like  one  hypnotised, 
and  she  was  strangely  calm  in  her  mind ;  her 
anxiety  seemed  suddenly  to  have  left  her.  She 
was  waiting  without  impatience  and  without 
fear. 

Lady  Dorothy  was  surprisingly  sympathetic 
and  asked  her  no  questions.  When  at  lunch- 
time  no  letters  at  all  were  brought  in,  she  said 
nothing  ;  she  did  not  even  mention  Fitzherbert' s 
name. 

After  lunch,  Maud  went  for  a  drive,  taking 
Noonoo  with  her.  Kames's  letter  was  tucked  into 
her  dress.  The  day  was  slipping  away  and  yet 
Maud  was  doing  nothing.  She  was  possessed 
with  this  strong  impression — that  the  future 
had  shaped  itself  independently  of  her  thoughts 


TWO  SINNERS  311 

and  that  she  need  do  nothing  ;  in  fact,  that  there 
was  nothing  for  her  to  do.  So  calm  and  resigned 
was  she  that  when  she  returned  to  the  house  she 
even  noted  the  presence  of  a  cat  seated  on  the 
stucco  pillar  of  the  gate.  At  the  sight  of  Noonoo 
it  turned  and  twisted  away  among  the  palings. 
Maud  called  to  it  with  all  the  persuasiveness  she 
knew,  and  finally  it  relaxed  so  far  as  to  consent 
to  return,  Noonoo  being  obviously  harmless. 
It  again  seated  itself  upon  the  pillar,  and  there 
it  sat  pretending  to  have  lost  all  consciousness 
of  her  presence.  When  she  called  to  it,  it  merely 
stretched  its  chin  high  in  the  air  and  looked 
keenly  across  the  street  pretending  to  see  some- 
thing of  importance,  affecting  the  air  of  a  person 
who  wishes  to  remain  exclusive  without  being 
actually  rude. 

Maud  went  up  the  steps  and  let  herself  into 
the  house  with  her  latchkey.  She  found  Jackson 
in  the  hall  carrying  the  tray  up  for  tea  earlier 
than  usual. 

He  turned  round  and  spoke  to  her. 

"  Her  ladyship  told  me  to  tell  you,  Miss," 
he  said,  "  that  she  is  in  the  writing-room  with 
Mr.  Fitzherbert." 

"  With  whom  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  With  Mr.  Fitzherbert." 

This,  then,  was  the  end.  This  was  what  she 
had  been  waiting  for. 

Maud  went  upstairs  and  walked  into  the 
drawing-room.  It  was  empty.  She  could  hear 
her  aunt's  voice  in  the  next  room.  She  must 
have  heard  her  come,  for  the  door  opened  between 


312  TWO  SINNERS 

the  rooms  and  Lady  Dorothy  came  out,  her 
cheeks  rather  flushed,  and  behind  her  came  a  tall 
figure  which  Maud  had  learned  to  associate 
with  what  was  most  important  in  her  life.  He 
smiled  when  their  eyes  met.  All  was  well. 
Maud  felt  sure  of  it ;  the  certainty  of  it  suffused 
her  whole  frame  with  warmth. 

'  Father  Fitzherbert  and  I  have  arranged  it," 
said  Lady  Dorothy,  speaking  his  name  as  if  he 
had  long  been  her  most  intimate  friend.  "  He 
is  going  to  take  us  over  to-morrow  to  Orpenden 
to  see  our  dear  invalid,  Major  Kames.  Well, 
Maud,  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

Maud  said  nothing  but  an  almost  whispered 
"  Thanks."  She  took  Fitzherbert's  hand  and 
leaned  upon  it  for  a  moment,  her  eyes  downcast 
and  a  slight  tremble  on  her  lips  that  he  alone 
noticed.  In  another  moment  Maud  had  re- 
covered her  composure. 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  she  said,  "  I  am  so  glad, 
Aunt  Dorothy !  " 

"  I  should  think  so,"  said  that  lady.  '  I 
can't  imagine  anybody  not  being  glad  at  the 
prospect  of  seeing  Major  Kames,  such  a  charming 
man  !  " 

To  her  excited  imagination  it  seemed  as  if 
there  could  be  no  further  obstacle  to  Maud's 
marriage  with  Major  Kames.  In  fact,  it  seemed 
as  if  the  whole  dismal  episode  of  Major  Kames' s 
disappearance  had  never  been  and  they  had 
slipped  back  to  eighteen  months  ago,  except 
for  the  sad  fact  that  Major  Kames  was  a  little 
lame  and  therefore  threatened  with  stoutness. 


A  SLIGHT  shower  of  snow  had  fallen  during  the 
night,  the  first  snow  of  the  coming  winter,  snow 
that  lay  thin  and  loose  and  white  and  sparkling 
upon  the  road  and  footways  and  was  melted 
and  sucked  into  the  glistening  soil  before  noon. 
The  air  was  clear,  still  and  sharp.  Above  the 
roofs  of  the  houses  and  the  London  streets  thin 
fleecy  clouds  could  be  seen  passing  hurriedly 
to  the  north-west,  as  if  flying  before  the  fiery 
strides  of  the  sun  as  he  climbed  up  his  slanting 
pathway  across  the  December  sky. 

A  landaulette  had  started  from  No.  2,  Brown 
Street,  and  was  speeding  through  the  dreary 
monotony  of  the  southern  London  suburbs  out 
on  to  a  high  road  in  Surrey  towards  Orpenden. 
It  was  so  fine  that  even  Lady  Dorothy  did  not 
oppose  Maud's  suggestion  that  the  carriage 
should  be  opened.  Fitzherbert  was  strongly 
of  opinion  too  that  it  ought  to  be  open,  and  he 
seated  himself  opposite  the  two  ladies,  with 
the  sunshine  broadly  exposing  the  shabbiness  of 
his  black  brimmed  hat  and  the  traces  of  age 
and  hard  wear  that  were  visible  down  the  front 
of  his  black  cloak.  Maud  longed  to  tidy  those 
buttons  that  seemed  on  the  point  of  "  giving 
up  "  from  lack  of  physical  strength  with  which 


314  TWO  SINNERS 

to  stand  the  strain  of  a  religious  life  ;  one  button 
actually  dangled  from  the  frayed  skeleton  of 
what  had  once  been  a  stout  and  useful  neck. 

Maud  wanted  to  put  out  her  hand  and 
twist  off  that  button  and  put  it  into  her  muff 
for  future  restoration  to  its  proper  place.  But 
instead  of  this  active  ministration  she  was  com- 
pelled to  sit  back  in  her  seat  and  do  nothing 
but  listen  idly  to  the  talk  that  went  on  between 
her  Aunt  Dorothy  and  Fitzherbert  about  persons 
with  whom  they  were  mutually  acquainted. 
Strangely  enough,  Maud  felt  that  of  her  two 
companions  not  Lady  Dorothy,  who  presumably 
had  "  loved  and  lost "  (once  at  least),  but 
Fitzherbert,  who  had  possibly  never  loved  at 
all,  understood  her  silence  and  her  preoccupation. 
Had  he  never  loved  at  all  ? 

She  glanced  across  at  him  wonderingly  and 
met  his  eyes  looking  at  her  with  that  mixture 
of  humour  and  intensity  of  purpose  that  was  the 
dominant  feature  of  a  very  striking  personality. 
She  felt  herself  reddening  a  little  under  his  gaze 
and  she  turned  away  and  looked  at  the  houses 
which  they  were  swiftly  passing.  The  traffic 
was  gradually  being  left  behind ;  the  roads 
were  becoming  more  suburban.  Presently  they 
were  among  villas  and  gardens  with  leafless  trees 
and  the  dingy  hedges  of  the  populous  part  of 
Surrey. 

They  turned  into  what  looked  like  a  main 
road  and  came  out  on  to  a  battered  common 
tarnished  with  its  proximity  to  London.  They 
passed  it  and  were  among  villas  again.  At 


TWO  SINNERS  315 

last  they  were  in  the  actual  country.  Here 
was  a  thatched  cottage  and  here  unspoiled 
meadows  in  which  cattle  were  eating  some 
scattered  roots.  The  air  was  purer  and  lighter. 

She  found  herself  glancing  from  side  to  side 
keenly  and  leaning  forward  as  she  did  so. 
Then,  conscious  that  her  movements  betrayed 
excitement,  she  sank  back  again  into  her  corner. 
On  they  went ! 

The  brown  hedges  were  speckled  over  with 
a  myriad  prismatic  drops  of  water ;  the  ground 
under  their  wheels  was  light  and  moist.  There 
was  a  smell  of  wild  herbs  that  had  ripened  and 
were  dissolving  into  their  elements  again  through 
the  agency  of  night  frosts,  of  damp,  and  of 
winter  sunshine.  In  a  short  time  they  would  be 
at  Orpenden.  Maud  felt  a  great  stirring  at 
her  heart  and  her  pulses  beat  rapidly.  On  they 
went !  How  would  she  bear  it  when  they 
actually  came  to  the  gates  of  Orpenden  ?  They 
sped  on  for  a  mile  or  so  and  then  took  a  turn 
westwards.  Was  this  the  road,  or  this  ?  No, 
not  this  gate ;  there  was  no  archway  over  it ! 
Still  they  went  on,  but  southwards  now  with  the 
noonday  sun  straight  in  their  eyes.  Now,  this 
was  the  road !  It  looked  like  it !  The  car 
began  to  slacken  its  pace  and  then  it  blew  its 
warning,  rounded  suddenly  and  went  under 
a  grey  archway  on  each  side  of  which  was  a  stone 
ball,  grey  with  the  weather.  Here  was  the 
long  chestnut  avenue  !  The  trees  had  lost  their 
golden  harvest,  but  they  stood  there  warm  and 
brown,  trusty  guardians  of  the  memory  of 


316  TWO  SINNERS 

summer.  Some  rooks  cawed  overhead.  Maud 
felt  her  face  stinging  and  her  hands  cold.  Lady 
Dorothy  was  stretching  her  neck  to  see  the 
house.  There  it  was  with  its  mullioned  windows 
and  grey  chimney-stacks,  from  which  thin  blue 
smoke  went  up  into  the  cloudless  sky. 

The  car  drew  up  before  the  great  shallow 
sweep  of  steps.  The  front  doors  stood  wide 
open,  just  as  they  had  stood  open  eighteen 
months  ago,  only  then  Ursula  was  here  and  she 
passed  through  them  first.  Oh  that  she  were 
here  now ! 

Fitzherbert  got  out.  Lady  Dorothy  made 
no  sign  of  moving.  Maud  glanced  from  one  to 
the  other  nervously. 

"  Lady  Dorothy  is  going  on  with  me  to  see 
the  church,"  he  said ;  "  we  shall  be  back  by 
lunch,"  and  he  held  out  his  hand  to  Maud. 
That  hand  held  to  her  gave  her  a  sudden  con- 
fidence. She  stepped  out  silently  and  then  stood 
looking  back  at  her  aunt.  She  understood  that 
this  was  a  concerted  plan.  She  was  to  go  in 
alone ! 

"  Au  revoir!"  called  out  Lady  Dorothy 
in  a  dismissive  voice,  while  she  pretended  to  be 
much  occupied  in  rearranging  the  rugs.  "  Au 
revoir,  my  dear !  " 

Fitzherbert  had  dropped  Maud's  hand.  She 
was  alone,  walking  up  the  steps,  he  following. 
All  her  fears  returned  upon  her.  How  could 
she  enter  those  doors  alone  ? 

"  What  are  you  afraid  of  ?  "  he  questioned, 
at  her  side  now,  and  touching  the  bell. 


TWO  SINNERS  317 

"  I  am  afraid  of  everything,"  she  said, 
"  because  I  care  too  much — I  suppose." 

1  You  can't  care  too  much — in  the  right 
way,"  he  replied. 

A  man  opened  the  inner  doors,  and  Fitz- 
herbert  led  her  into  the  great  panelled  hall. 
There  were  the  stained  windows  lit  up  by  the 
sun  and  throwing  fine  fans  of  colour  across  the 
staircase ;  there  were  the  portraits  looking  out 
silently.  A  great  fire  burned  on  the  hearth. 
Maud  scarcely  knew  what  she  did.  She  felt 
herself  being  helped  off  with  her  thick  coat. 
What  was  to  come  next  ?  She  waited  for 
Fitzherbert's  voice,  her  will  simply  following 
his. 

"  Take  off  your  veil  and  gloves,"  he  said. 
She  glanced  up  at  him  and  obeyed.  She  heard 
him  dismissing  the  servant,  telling  the  man  that 
he  would  take  Miss  Monckton  to  the  library 
himself.  Perhaps  it  was  the  white  look  in  her 
face,  as  she  stood  waiting  for  a  sign  from  him, 
that  made  him  lay  his  hand  on  her  arm  as  he 
guided  her  towards  the  library  door.  Was 
Lionel  in  there  ?  If  her  heart  went  on  beating 
like  this,  she  would  not  be  able  to  speak  to  him  ; 
her  voice  would  be  gone. 

"  He  is  downstairs  now,  but  still  on  a  couch," 
Fitzherbert  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  Don't  be 
frightened,  child !  " 

Maud  bent  her  head  and  made  no  answer. 

He  led  her  across  the  floor. 

"  Leave  no  room  in  your  heart  for  fear  or  for 
self-pity,"  he  said,  still  in  a  low  voice.  "  The 


318  TWO  SINNERS 

modern  world  is  so  tender-hearted  of  itself  that 
it  would  re- write  the  parable  of  the  ten  talents 
and  make  it  end  differently." 

She  looked  up  into  the  face  that  was  bent 
towards  her. 

He  went  on  speaking.  ;<  The  modern  world 
would  insist  that  the  man  who  refused  to  work 
and  hid  his  talent  should  not  be  punished  but 
should  be  forgiven  and  pitied.  But  that  is 
not  the  way  to  view  life  if  you  want  to  '  know 
what  is  true  and  make  what  is  beautiful.'  The 
Master  of  the  World  does  demand  a  harvest 
which  we  have  ourselves  to  sow  and  reap  in  the 
sweat  of  our  labour,  so  be  strong,  be  strong  !  " 

The  library  door  was  already  open  and 
before  Maud  knew  what  was  happening  Fitz- 
herbert  had  left  her  side  and  was  gone. 

There  was  sunshine  too  in  the  windows  of 
the  library  chequered  by  the  shadows  of  the 
mullions.  Across  a  great  space  over  which  she 
had  to  tread  was  a  couch  on  which  half  lay, 
half  sat,  Major  Kames.  Around  him  were 
scattered  books  and  papers. 

His  face  had  paled  somewhat  from  its  usual 
healthy  tan  and  it  was  turned  towards  her. 
He  was  the  same  man  and  yet  not  the  same  ; 
the  face  of  this  man  she  loved. 

The  door  was  closed  behind  her  and  they 
were  alone. 

She  moved  towards  the  couch.  "  I  have 
come  to  thank  you,"  she  said  in  a  trembling 
voice,  her  eyes  lowered  as  she  walked.  "  Don't 
try  to  move  !  " 


TWO  SINNERS  319 

He  sat  silent,  leaning  forward  towards  her, 
his  hands  grasping  the  rug  that  lay  across  his 
knees.  She  came  up  to  him,  feeling  more  than 
seeing  that  his  features  were  set  and  that  the 
pulses  in  his  temples  throbbed.  She  knelt 
down  by  the  couch  and  took  the  hand  that  lay 
on  the  rug  nearest  to  her.  She  put  it  against 
her  cheek.  Then  she  pulled  it  gently  down  till 
it  rested  over  her  heart,  and  there  she  held  it 
with  both  her  hands  pressed  over  it  as  if  she 
were  a  mother  clasping  some  babe  long  lost  and 
restored  at  last. 

Moments  slipped  by — the  most  precious, 
perhaps,  in  their  lives — moments  of  profound 
peace  and  silence. 

"  Maud,"  he  said  at  last,  trying  to  speak 
calmly,  "  don't  pity  me  too  much !  I  don't 
deserve  it.  I  have  lived  for  forty  years  and 
have  nothing  to  show  for  it  but  one  or  two  grey 
hairs,  and  now  I  am  lame !  " 

Not  a  word  of  reproach,  of  distrust ;  no 
demand  for  himself,  not  even  a  word  of  forgive- 
ness which  might  have  implied  that  there  was 
something  to  be  forgiven ;  only  an  apology, 
self-accusation  and  humility. 

She  made  no  answer,  but  she  slid  one  of  her 
arms  over  him  and  laid  her  face  against  him, 
weeping  verj  softly  from  pure  joy. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  they  could  articulate 
any  words,  except  each  other's  names,  uttered 
over  and  over  again. 

When  Maud  could  speak  coherently  she 
whispered  :  "  Try  not  to  mind  being  lame  !  " 


320  TWO  SINNERS 

and  then  she  raised  herself  and  sitting  on  the 
edge  of  his  couch,  she  held  both  his  hands. 

"  I  mind  for  your  sake,"  said  Kames.  "  I'm 
ashamed  of  your  having  a  lame  brute  of  a 
husband ! " 

"  I  don't  mind  it,"  urged  Maud.  "  In  fact, 
dear,  I  prefer  it." 

"  Prefer  it !  "  exclaimed  Kames,  half  laugh- 
ing, but  with  a  moisture  in  his  eyes  that  he  could 
not  hide. 

"  I  prefer  it,"  said  Maud,  "  because — because 
you  can't  run  away  from  me." 

"  A  man  could  be  faithful  to  you,  my  dear," 
he  said  pressing  both  her  hands,  "  without 
needing  to  bash  his  leg  to  help  him." 

"  Well,  but,"  said  Maud,  "  now  that  you've 
done  it,  it  may  be  useful,"  and  her  lips  and  eyes 
broke  away  from  tears  to  the  subdued  laughter 
of  great  happiness.  Then  she  suddenly  became 
silent.  His  happiness  was  so  new,  it  was  so 
rare  and  strange  to  have  her  love,  that  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  it  might  slip  away  and  leave  him 
as  suddenly  as  it  came. 

'  What  is  it? "  he  asked.   "  What  is  it,  Maud  1 

The  anxiety  in  his  face  pained  her. 

"  You  were  injured  in  going  to  see  Ursula," 
she  said.  :<  You  were  doing  what  I  ought  to 
have  been  doing.  I  have  always  been  selfish, 
even  towards  Ursula ;  how  can  you  trust  me, 
dear,  how  can  you  ?  ' 

He  was  going  to  protest,  but  she  would  not 
let  him  speak.  "  I  only  come  to  you,  now, 
Lionel,  because  I  want  to." 


TWO  SINNERS  321 

He  pulled  her  nearer  to  him. 

"  Yes,  but,"  she  said,  resisting,  "  it  would 
be  more  unselfish  if  I  came  to  you  not  because 
I  loved  you  but  because  I  was  strong  enough 
and  tender  enough  to  pretend  that  I  did." 

''  That  would  be  jolly  hard  on  both  of  us," 
he  said. 

"  You  wouldn't  know,  dearest,"  said  Maud, 
still  troubled  and  still  resisting. 

"  I  should  know,"  was  his  answer,  and  they 
looked  at  each  other  long  and  silently. 

'  There  was  a  time,"  said  Kames,  in  a  low 
voice  and  very  slowly  for  him,  "  when  I  would 
have  had  you,  Maud,  at  any  price,  but  I  feel 
differently  now.  Now  that  I  know  what  you 
can  be  to  me  nothing  short  of  that  would  satisfy 
me  and  that's  the  truth." 

That  was  the  truth !  Why  argue  further  ? 
And  yet  that  was  not  her  point ;  Tier  point 

was But  after  all,  Fitzherbert  did  not  mean 

that  it  was  more  blessed  not  to  love  but  that 
it  was  not  wholly  cursed  if  you  could  behave  as 
if  you  loved. 

"  The  worst  of  it  is,"  said  Maud,  pulling 
away  her  hands  very  gently  and  rising  from  the 
couch,  "that  I  can't  help  it  now.  When  we 
were  engaged  I  was  too  stupid  to  understand 
you.  I  only  came  to  understand  you  when  I 
discovered  all  you  had  done  for  Ursula,  what 
you  had  been  to  her.  She  kept  a  diary — I 
read  it — that  dreadful  night  when  I  came  to  her — 
too  late  !  She  had  just  passed  away,"  and  Maud 
moved  to  the  window  quietly  and  spoke  with 

Y 


322  TWO  SINNERS 

all  the  self-control  she  could  command.  "  You 
ought  to  have  been  there,  you  who  watched 
over  her  all  those  last  weeks  of  her  lonely  life. 
I  ought  to  have  been  with  her — I  ought  to  have 
known  she  was  ill.  I  didn't  know  because  she 
spared  me,  and  she  spared  me  because  she  knew 
I  dreaded  loneliness  and  poverty.  All  my 
proud  talk  to  you  was  humbug  and  conceit, 
Lionel.  I  loved  nobody  and  I  wanted  money. 
I  wanted  to  run  away  from  her,  from  duty. 
Suppose  you  had  been  killed  that  day  you  had 
the  accident  ?  "  She  turned  away  from  the 
window  and  came  back  slowly  to  his  couch. 
"  I  should  have  lost  all  that  I  have  learned  at 
last  to  love — Ursula  and  you — and  there  would 
have  been  nothing  left  for  me  but  the  saddest 
memory  a  human  being  can  have  :  the  memory 
of  things  priceless  that  were  neglected  till  it 
was  too  late." 

No  word  that  he  could  have  said  would  have 
been  so  great  a  punishment  as  the  expression 
in  his  face  of  incredulity  struggling  with  surprise, 
pain,  and  great  pity. 

'  You  loved  Ursula  !  "  he  said  in  a  low  voice, 
tentative  and  yet  insistent. 

"  Not  properly."  Maud  spoke  out  bravely. 
If  she  forfeited  all  that  now  remained  in  the 
world  that  stood  between  her  and  disaster, 
then  she  must  forfeit  it.  She  must  speak  the 
truth. 

"  Lionel,  you  have  a  right  to  send  me  away 
— I've  been  a  humbug " 

His   eyes,   those   large,    bold,   brown   eyes, 


TWO  SINNERS  323 

wandered  round  the  room  mechanically  as  the 
eyes  may  of  a  man  suddenly  awakened  from 
slumber ;  then  he  rested  them  upon  her  face. 
She  stood,  looking  down  at  him,  tall  and  beautiful 
and  tender ;  but  bowed  with  humility,  despising 
herself. 

"  Do  you  love  me,  Maud  ?  "  he  asked.  What 
he  meant  was  what  he  could  not  have  meant  two 
years  ago,  what  he  would  not  have  demanded 
for  himself,  what  he  would  not  have  been  pre- 
pared to  promise,  although  he  would  most 
certainly  have  given  it  to  a  good  woman. 
What  he  meant  now  was  not  the  passion  of  love, 
which  he  knew  Maud  would  give  him,  but  some- 
thing else,  that  something  that  except  from 
Ursula  he  had  never  experienced  in  his  life  and 
which  he  realised  was  "  necessary." 

He  asked  the  question  of  Maud  with  absolute 
simplicity  and  directness,  knowing  that  she 
would  know  all  that  the  words  implied,  just  as 
she  had  known  all  that  it  had  implied  when  he 
said,  "  You  loved  Ursula  ?  "  Maud  hesitated  a 
moment  and  then  said  : 

"  All  that  I  am  capable  of  is  yours ; "  then 
after  a  moment's  pause  she  said,  "  Lionel,  you 
must  despise  me."  She  stood  waiting,  tortured 
with  self-reproach  and  anxiety. 

"  It  is  not  for  me  to  despise  you,"  he  said  a 
little  hoarsely.  "  I'm  no  saint,  Maud." 

No,  he  was  no  saint,  his  past  life  witnessed 
to  that ;  but  neither  was  he  the  sinner  who 
flaps  his  wings  and  crows  a  noisy  self-approba- 
tion ;  no  mean  personal  vanity  stepped  in 


324  TWO  SINNERS 

between  himself  and  Truth,  and  urged  him  to 
call  good  evil,  or  evil  good. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  said  Maud,  "  that  you  can 
forgive  me  now  that  you  know  what  I  am  ?  " 

"  Don't  talk  of  my  forgiveness !  Don't  I 
need  forgiveness  ?  "  He  held  out  his  hands  to 
her  and  drew  her  down  to  the  couch  again. 

"  Oh,  Lionel,"  she  said  tremulously.  "  How 
is  it  that  I  have  happiness  that  I  don't  deserve  ? 
It  must  be  because  God  sends  His  merciful  rain 
equally  upon  the  just  and  upon  the  unjust." 

"  There  is  time,"  he  said.  "  I  hope  there  is 
time  left  for  you  and  for  me  !  " 

She  knew  what  he  meant. 


CHAPTEE  XXVIII 

KAMES  did  not  walk  nearly  so  lamely  as  Maud 
had  imagined  he  would.  He  actually  got  up 
from  his  couch  in  the  library,  and  with  the  aid 
of  a  stick  and  Fitzherbert's  arm  he  crossed  the 
hall  almost  briskly  and  went  into  the  dining- 
room. 

"  I  am  perfectly  certain  that  I  could  walk 
alone,"  he  said  to  Lady  Dorothy  as  they  seated 
themselves  at  table,  "  only  they  won't  let  me." 

'  You  are  positively  agile,"  said  Lady 
Dorothy,  who  was  giving  him  a  covert  glance 
to  see  whether  he  had  indeed  grown  any  stouter. 
He  had  not,  as  yet,  and  perhaps  the  catastrophe 
would  be  averted.  She  sincerely  hoped  so,  for 
Kames  just  as  he  was  seemed  to  her  delighted 
eyes  exactly  what  he  ought  to  be.  He  was 
stouter  than  Fitzherbert,  but  then  Fitzherbert 
erred  a  little  on  the  side  of  being  gaunt.  He 
did  not  look  the  aristocrat  that  Fitzherbert  was, 
but  then,  thought  the  good  lady,  there  was  an 
indescribable  charm  in  Lionel's  appearance  that 
would  have  fascinated  her  had  she  been  a  young 
girl  far  more  than  any  mere  regularity  of 
feature. 

To  Maud  it  seemed  so  strange  to  see  Fitz- 
herbert sitting  opposite  to  Lionel  and  pronouncing 
the  brief  academic  benediction  on  their  meal. 


326  TWO  SINNERS 

It  was  like  a  dream  conceived  by  the  brain  of 
Ursula  and  continued  by  herself. 

To  Lady  Dorothy  nothing  seemed  strange 
that  morning.  She  could  almost  have  believed 
that  no  tragic  break  in  the  engagement  between 
Maud  and  Lionel  had  ever  taken  place.  The 
break,  indeed,  had  been  quite  unnecessary  and 
merely  a  symptom  of  the  "  general  unrest " 
affected  by  the  present  generation.  It  seemed 
as  if  it  were  only  the  other  day  that  it  had  been 
arranged  that  they  were  to  come  to  Orpenden 
to  meet  Lionel's  friends  at  dinner,  and  here  they 
were  at  Orpenden,  the  only  difference  being  that 
they  were  lunching  and  with  Fitzherbert  instead 
of  dining  and  with  strangers  and  the  Monckton 
collarette.  Surely  it  was  only  yesterday  that 
there  had  been  that  At  Home  at  No.  2,  Brown 
Street  ?  Almost  the  last  thing  that  Lionel 
had  said,  before  that  silly,  silly,  wretched  fuss 
Maud  had  made  in  the  writing-room,  almost  the 
last  thing  that  Lionel  had  said  was  that  he  wras 
going  to  drive  all  the  crowd  away  for  the  sake  of 
poor  little  Kiddie,  who  was  so  lonely  upstairs 
all  by  his  own  little  self  !  Lady  Dorothy  looked 
through  her  glasses  tenderly  at  Kames's  face. 
What  a  kind  man  he  was  to  have  sung  that  song 
about  not  understanding  anything  about  some- 
thing or  other !  Everybody  had  rushed  away 
the  moment  it  was  over — and  no  wonder !  It 
was  really  very  naughty  of  Lionel,  but  very,  very 
charming  of  him  and  so  clever.  If  Kiddie  had 
lived  he  would  have  become  very  devoted  to  him. 
Poor  Kiddie,  how  keenly  he  would  have  enjoyed 


TWO  SINNERS  327 

Orpenden  !  After  the  poor  darling  had  got  over 
his  first  excitement  and  had  barked  just  a  little 
at  the  people  in  the  house  and  at  the  portraits 
up  in  the  gallery  (the  little  man  was  so  intelligent, 
he  knew  that  portraits  were  people) — after  he 
had  expressed  his  dear  feelings  he  would  have 
simply  loved  the  house.  Had  Lionel  heard  of 
poor  Kiddie's  death  ? 

She  put  the  question  to  him  in  a  softened 
voice,  curling  the  stiff  bridge  of  her  nose  in  a 
marvellous  way,  for  its  appearance  under  normal 
circumstances  gave  no  indication  that  it  possessed 
elasticity. 

No,  Kames  had  not  heard  of  it,  and  he  raised 
his  eyebrows  and  looked  at  Lady  Dorothy  with 
decorous  attention,  avoiding  Maud's  glance. 
Fitzherbert  began  to  talk  of  other  things  and 
held  Maud's  attention,  so  Lady  Dorothy  had 
Kames  all  to  herself. 

Actually  Maud  had  not  mentioned  the  death 
of  Kiddie  to  him !  But  then  people  in  love, 
when  they  get  together  are  apt  to  be  just  a 
little  self-centred ;  they  must  not  be  too  much 
blamed.  Lady  Dorothy  forgave  them  and  her 
forgiveness  was  all  the  more  easily  granted 
because  Lionel's  complete  ignorance  of  the  great 
tragedy  gave  her  the  opportunity  of  telling  the 
whole  story  with  the  length  and  solemnity  that 
it  required.  Having  finished  her  tale,  she  went 
on  to  remark  that  her  new  pet  was  not  as  sensitive 
as  Kiddie  nor  as  intelligent;  he  was  merely 
very  lovable. 

"  Why  didn't  you  bring  the  little  animal  with 


328  TWO  SINNERS 

you  ?  "  asked  Kames  in  a  voice  that  scarcely 
concealed  his  relief  at  the  prospect  of  a  peaceful 
substitute  for  the  demon  of  No.  2,  Brown 
Street. 

"  I  would  have  brought  him,  I  wanted  to 
bring  him,"  said  Lady  Dorothy,  "  but  I  thought 
we  should  be  too  many  for  you  as  you  are  not 
quite  strong  yet.  You  will  see  him  later  on. 
But  I  must  warn  you  not  to  expect  in  him  the 
individuality  that  was  Kiddie's  strong  point. 
Dogs  have  individuality,"  she  added  firmly  as 
she  glanced  round  at  Fitzherbert  and  nodded 
her  head  across  at  Maud. 

"  My  dear  lady,"  said  Kames  warmly,  "  I 
have  no  doubt  that  every  blessed  blue-bottle  has 
got  its  own  individuality,  only  we  haven't  time 
to  observe  it." 

Fitzherbert  listened,  but  said  nothing. 
"  That's  going  too  far,  Lionel,"  exclaimed 
Lady  Dorothy. 

This  was  taking  all  the  glory  and  credit  from 
Kiddie's  individuality. 

"  It's  not  going  far  enough.  Nature  isn't 
as  exclusive  as  you  think,"  said  Kames.  "  For 
all  you  or  I  know,"  he  went  on,  turning  to  her 
and  speaking  in  that  warm  confidential  manner 
that  she  loved — "  for  all  you  or  I  know,  there 
are  beetles  walking  on  that  terrace  behind 
Fitzherbert  that  have  souls  to  be  saved.  Re- 
member that  when  you  go  and  stamp  upon 
'em ! " 

"  I  don't  stamp  on  things,"  said  Lady 
Dorothy,  who  would  have  been  scandalised  had 


the   speaker   been   any   one   else   than   Lionel 
Kames. 

"  I  do,"  said  Kames  ;  "  I  stamp  on  'em  and 
I  don't  care.  If  I  was  a  Buddhist,  'pon  my  word, 
I  shouldn't  know  where  to  walk." 

Lady  Dorothy  had  been  under  the  impression 
that  the  transmigration  of  souls  only  concerned 
"  four-footed  "  beasts  that  were  familiar  in  the 
domestic  circle,  or  such  wild  animals  as  are 
objects  of  popular  interest  in  the  Zoological 
Gardens.  In  that  heavenly  Cosmos  which  one 
day  she  would  reluctantly  accept  as  a  substitute 
for  the  earthly  one,  she  hoped  that  there  would 
be  no  attempt  made  by  Providence  to  introduce 
insect  life.  It  had  not  answered  here  and  she 
was  convinced  that  there  would  be  "  no  room," 
apart  from  other  objections. 

Of  the  four  persons  seated  in  that  dining- 
room  at  Orpenden,  none  of  whom  was  undis- 
tinguished in  appearance,  the  most  striking 
figure  was  that  of  Fitzherbert.  Even  when  he 
was  silent,  his  stern  features  and  luminous  pale 
grey  eyes  dominated  the  table.  Lady  Dorothy 
turned  to  him. 

'  You  know  how  Major  Kames  chaffs,"  she 
said  with  an  appealing  glance  through  her  eye- 
glasses, for  here  was  an  ecclesiastical  official 
whose  business  it  was  to  admit  to  the  world 
beyond  only  those  passengers  who  held  first- 
class  tickets.  '  You  know  how  he  chaffs,"  she 
repeated. 

Fitzherbert  laughed.  "  Yes,  I  know  how 
he  chaffs." 


330  TWO  SINNERS 

But  what  he  exactly  meant  Lady  Dorothy 
was  not  certain.  She  sighed.  What  was  wrong 
with  the  world  was  that  it  was  too  modern. 
Delightful  as  Lionel  was,  he  was,  of  course, 
modern.  Fitzherbert  was  modern.  In  her 
young  days,  she  could  not  remember  any  clergy- 
men who  were  celibates  and  wore  cassocks  in 
the  house.  All  this  was  modern  and  the  old 
sound  Evangelicalism  that  knew  the  truth  and 
said  it  clearly  was  dying  out  and  everything 
had  become  a  jumble. 

And  what  were  Maud's  thoughts  ?  She  re- 
membered with  amazement  that  when  she  was 
at  Orpenden,  sitting  at  this  same  table,  eighteen 
months  ago,  she  had  looked  at  Lionel  with 
lowered  critical  eyes  and  for  the  hundredth 
time  pronounced  him  to  be  typical  of  the  full- 
blown prosperous  philistine — with  artistic  pre- 
tensions. Now,  looking  at  him  with  the  eyes  of 
love,  he  seemed  to  her  simply  a  dear,  sensitive, 
pathetic  figure  and  she  was  prepared,  if  it  was 
necessary,  to  champion  him  against  the  world. 
In  the  old  days  her  criticism  of  him  had  ex- 
hausted her  nervously  ;  now  she  felt  a  profound 
peace  in  his  presence — such  peace  as  Ursula  had 
felt. 

She  did  not  ask  herself  what  Fitzherbert 
thought  of  him.  Having  ceased  to  criticise 
Lionel  herself,  she  did  not  anticipate  the  criticism 
of  others.  Lionel's  acquaintance  with  Fitz- 
herbert had  occurred  by  accident,  but  had  not 
their  friendship  been  made  possible  because  of 
some  community  of  mind  ? 


TWO  SINNERS  331 

This  thought  must  have  been  mirrored  in 
her  eyes,  for  Fitzherbert  suddenly  broke  off 
his  talk  and  said  quietly,  without  altering  the 
inflexion  of  his  voice  : 

'  You  are  asking  a  question  ?  " 

Maud  flushed  a  little. 

"  A  stupid  question,  I  am  afraid,"  she  said ; 
and  then,  as  he  did  not  remove  his  eyes  from 
hers,  she  added  : 

"  I  was  thinking :  what  do  you  and  Lionel 
talk  about  ?  " 

Kames  had  caught  the  words  and  adroitly 
disengaging  himself  from  Lady  Dorothy's  grasp, 
he  exclaimed : 

'  What  do  we  talk  about  ?     Why— drains." 

"  Drains  !  "  repeated  Lady  Dorothy. 

Maud  looked  musingly  at  her  future  husband. 

"Do  you  mean  moral  drains  ?  " 

Lady  Dorothy  looked  helplessly  round  the 
table. 

'  Yes,"  said  Fitzherbert,  at  last  answering 
Maud's  question.  '  We  discuss  that  intermin- 
able question :  whether  and  how  far  the  State 
can  destroy  the  weeds  of  social  life  and  preserve 
the  flowers  ?  It  is  the  old  question  that  Plato 
discussed :  Can  Virtue  be  taught  ?  Or,  does 
Virtue  come  by  inspiration  ?  I  use  the  word 
*  inspiration  '  in  its  philosophical  sense  :  '  Ye 
know  not  whither  it  cometh  ?  '  I  think  the 
answer  to  both  these  questions  is  '  Yes.'  Virtue 
can  be  taught  and  it  also  comes  whither  we 
know  not.  It  may  be  that  this  dualism  is  only 
apparent.  But  think  of  what  all  this  means  if 


332  TWO  SINNERS 

we  take  it  seriously,  all  it  means  in  political 
effort  and  in  religious  aspiration.  Wnile  we 
delay  in  making  this  effort,  while  we  hesitate 
to  seek  the  Spirit,  the  problem  of  Virtue  remains 
insoluble." 

Lady  Dorothy  coughed  slightly.  The  pro- 
blem of  Virtue  was  not  insoluble  in  No.  2,  Brown 
Street.  What  a  pity  it  was  that  Lionel  should 
share  views  of  this  kind  (whatever  they  were) ! 
It  would  only  encourage  Maud  in  being  eccentric. 

Still,  disquieting  thoughts  were  not  suitable 
for  such  a  happy  occasion.  Whatever  views 
Lionel  Kames  might  have,  she  was  thankful  to 
have  him  back  again  in  the  family  circle ;  and 
as  to  Fitzherbert,  he  seemed  almost  a  holy  man, 
though  misguided  in  some  respects. 

Almost  before  lunch  was  finished  the  doctor 
arrived  unexpectedly,  and  Lady  Dorothy  and 
Maud  went  into  the  drawing-room  to  wait  until 
the  interview  was  over. 

Maud  had  scarcely  taken  up  her  cup  of 
coffee  when  she  recollected  the  buttons  on  Fitz- 
herbert's  cloak. 

"  I  must  sew  them  on  properly,"  said  Maud. 

"  One  of  the  maids  will  do  it,"  said  Lady 
Dorothy. 

"  They  won't  do  it  as  well  or  so  quickly  as 
I  shall,"  said  Maud,  touching  the  bell. 

"  You  can't  do  it  here,"  said  Lady  Dorothy, 
"  and  it  will  only  make  a  fuss." 

"  Let  me  do  it  here,  dear  Aunt  Dorothy.  I 
shall  retire  to  the  other  end  of  the  room,"  said 
Maud  in  a  firm  voice.  "  It  must  be  done  at 


TWO  SINNERS  333 

once,  as  you  know  Father  Fitzherbert  wants  ua 
to  start  as  soon  as  the  doctor  has  gone.  He  has 
an  engagement." 

Before  her  aunt  could  make  further  objec- 
tions she  had  demanded  the  cloak  from  the 
amazed  butler  and  sent  an  urgent  demand  to 
the  servants'  quarters  for  the  requisite  tools 
wherewith  to  do  the  work.  She  spoke  with 
such  quiet  insistence  that  before  five  minutes 
had  elapsed  she  was  seated  at  the  extreme  end 
of  the  drawing-room,  out  of  sight  of  Lady 
Dorothy,  had  got  the  cloak  upon  her  knees  and 
was  rather  feverishly  attacking  the  buttons. 

'  You  are  making  a  fuss,  my  dear,"  said 
Lady  Dorothy  without  turning  her  head. 

"  I  am,"  said  Maud,  from  the  distant  corner. 
"  I  really  couldn't  allow  some  callous  hand  to 
sew  on  these  buttons.  I  wish  I  could  sponge 
the  front  of  the  cloak  with  some  Scrubb's 
ammonia  but  I  suppose  that  would  be  going  too 
far." 

Besides,  there  was  not  time.  In  a  few 
minutes  they  heard  voices  in  the  hall  and  the 
doctor  drove  away.  A  moment  later  and  Fitz- 
herbert came  into  the  drawing-room. 

'  Well,"  he  said  coming  straight  up  to  Maud 
and  looking  down  at  her,  "  the  news  is  good. 
Kames  is  doing  remarkably  well ;  the  bone 
seems  to  be  righting  itself  with  the  massage  he 
is  having.  It  is  wonderful  how  happiness  helps 
the  work.  Kames  now  has  everything  in  his 
favour." 

Maud  had  thrown  the  cloak  behind  her  chair 


334  TWO  SINNERS 

and  sat  with  the  needle  in  her  hand,  looking  up 
at  Fitzherbert. 

"  I  don't  like  hurrying  you,  but  I  am  afraid 
I  ought  to  be  starting  in  ten  minutes,"  he  added. 

The  time  had  been  all  too  brief  at  Orpenden, 
but  what  did  it  matter  ?  Was  it  not  the  first 
of  many  visits,  the  first  day  of  many  days  ? 

It  was  indeed  only  the  first  day  of  many  days, 
and  yet  when  the  door  of  the  library  closed  on 
Maud,  and  Kames  was  left  alone  on  his  couch, 
it  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  hours  that  separated 
him  from  Maud's  next  visit  were  not  hours  but 
years.  But  the  future  was  gilded  with  a  strange 
brilliance  such  as  he  had  not  dreamt  of,  a  beauty 
of  which  he  was  almost  afraid.  He  had  looked 
forward  to  his  Parliamentary  career  merely  with 
the  sober  desire  to  be  reckoned  among  the 
workers  of  the  world ;  he  had  hoped  to  fill  the 
emptiness  of  his  heart  with  the  warmth  that  is 
beaten  out  of  the  struggle  and  stress  of  public 
work ;  but  he  had  never  expected  to  enter 
upon  this  new  life  with  the  exhilaration  and 
buoyant  hope  that  filled  him  now  as  with  an 
intoxication. 

Maud's  love  was  more  than  ever  he  had 
hoped  for  in  a  woman.  Should  he  get  used  to  it  ? 
Should  he  cease  to  wonder  and  delight  in  it  ? 
Human  nature  accustoms  itself  to  depths  of 
sorrow  and  also  to  heights  of  happiness.  This 
afternoon  when  she  bid  him  good-bye  she  had 
kissed  him  passionately  and  told  him  in  a  tragic 
whisper  to  "  take  care  of  himself "  till  she 
returned.  Should  he  get  used  to  this  warmth 


TWO  SINNERS  335 

of  solicitude  ?     He  certainly  would  get  used  to 
it,  but  it  would  become  a  necessity  of  his  life  ! 

Kames  sighed  deeply  as  he  lay  on  his  couch. 
It  was  the  sigh  of  fulness  of  happiness.  Then 
he  looked  round  him  and  reached  for  a  book 
from  the  table  at  hand.  Maud's  love  was 
absorbing,  but  it  was  also  stimulating,  he  had  the 
woman  of  his  heart  to  work  for — her  approbation 
to  gain ! 

He  opened  the  book  and  began  to  read,  but 
in  the  stillness  of  that  spacious  room  only 
broken  by  the  fitful  crackling  of  the  fire,  a  sudden 
deep  regret  broke  in  upon  his  thoughts,  a  piercing 
sadness.  Ursula  would  never  enter  the  house 
of  his  married  happiness,  she  would  never  tread 
these  floors,  she  would  never  sleep  under  the 
protecting  roof  of  Orpenden,  never  see  their 
children,  never  share  in  the  vicissitudes  of  his 
public  life,  never  discuss  with  him  his  new 
projects,  or  those  old  questions  that  Fitzherbert 
spoke  of,  questions  that  the  world  has  always 
discussed  since  it  began  to  think  at  all  and  always 
will  discuss !  She  was  gone,  but  not  to  any 
strange  place ;  she  was  gone  whither  all  the 
Past  has  drifted  and  to  which  the  Present 
drifts  inevitably,  bearing  with  it  its  joys  and 
sorrows,  its  victories  and  its  defeats  on  the 
ceaseless  tide  of  that  interminable  river  that  we 

call  Destiny. 

•  >  •  •  • 

Maud  was  being  swiftly  carried  along  the 
roads  towards  London  in  the  growing  shadows 
of  that  eventful  afternoon.  Even  Lady  Dorothy 


336  TWO  SINNERS 

was  silent.  Too  much  had  happened  during  the 
last  few  hours  for  any  one  of  the  three  to  think 
that  it  was  necessary  to  entertain  the  others. 

Lady  Dorothy  was  thinking  of  many  things  : 
of  future  visits  to  Orpenden,  of  Maud's  wedding 
— and,  after  the  wedding,  of  the  necessity  of 
drawing  Stella  into  closer  connection  with  No.  2, 
Brown  Street.  Stella  would  have  to  initiate 
and  help  with  all  social  functions.  Lady  Dorothy 
was  plunged  in  serious  reflection  ! 

What  was  Fitzherbert  thinking  of  ?  He  sat 
silent,  looking  straight  out  before  him  over  the 
heads  of  the  two  ladies  opposite.  He  was  quite 
unconscious  that  his  cloak  was  tidy.  He  had 
not  noticed,  in  buttoning  it  up,  that  the  buttons 
were  firm  and  in  their  right  places ;  or,  if  some 
obscure  cognition  of  the  fact  had  dawned  in  his 
brain,  that  germ  of  thought  had  never  risen  into 
full  consciousness. 

Suddenly  Maud  turned  in  her  seat  and  looked 
anxiously  round  at  her  Aunt  Dorothy. 

"  I  quite  forgot  to  warn  him  of  that  crease 
in  the  carpet !  "  she  said. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  demanded  Lady 
Dorothy,  startled  out  of  her  thoughts. 

Fitzherbert  lowered  his  eyes  to  look  at  the  girl. 

"  We  couldn't  go  back,  I  suppose  ?  "  stam- 
mered Maud,  glancing  at  the  watch  on  her  wrist. 
"  I  quite  forgot  to  warn  him !  There  was  a 
crease  in  the  carpet  in  his  study.  I  noticed  it 
and  meant  to  speak  of  it,  and  then,  somehow,  I 
forgot !  " 

"  Well,  my  dear,  what  does  it  matter  ?    Very 


TWO  SINNERS  337 

careless  of  the  servants,  of  course ;    but  what 
else  can  you  expect  in  a  bachelor's  house  ?  " 

"  But  it  is  so  dangerous,"  said  Maud,  urgently. 
"  He  may  fall  over  it.  I  suppose  we  couldn't  go 
back  and " 

"  My  dear  Maud,  why  in  the  world  should  he 
fall  over  it  ?  "  said  Lady  Dorothy.  "  What  an 
imagination  you  have !  " 

"  Why  shouldn't  he  fall  over  it  ?  "  exclaimed 
Maud.  "  Couldn't  we  go ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Fitzherbert  very  quietly  and  he 
leaned  forward  a  little  and  looked  straight  into 
Maud's  anxious  eyes.  "  No !  Your  anxiety, 
Miss  Monckton,  is  out  of  all  proportion  to  the 
cause.  Kames  isn't  to  walk  without  the  assist- 
ance of  his  man  for  another  day  or  two." 

Maud  sank  back  into  her  seat,  out-argued 
but  unhappy.  "  I  shall  wire  directly  I  get 
home,"  she  said. 

Then  she  saw  the  smile  lurking  behind  the 
lips  opposite  to  her  and  the  pale  grey  eyes  full 
of  humour. 

'  You  are  laughing  at  me,"  she  said.    "  You 
think  I  am  a  fool ;  perhaps  I  am." 

Lady  Dorothy  looked  away  ;  she  was  con- 
scious that  the  talk  was  now  getting  a  little 
private. 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  torture  yourself  un- 
necessarily," said  Fitzherbert.  "  There  are 
enough  serious  troubles  without  our  inventing 
them.  Not  merely  for  your  own  sake,  but  for 
his,"  he  added  in  a  low  voice.  "  Take  a 
courageous  view  of  life.  Now  !  Always  !  " 

z 


338  TWO  SINNEES 

Maud  returned  his  gaze.  "  I  had  forgotten," 
she  said  quietly. 

"  And  when  you  write  to  him  this  evening," 
he  said,  smiling  broadly,  "  you  can  mention  the 
crease  in  the  carpet." 

"  You  are  right,"  she  said.  '  You  always 
are." 


THE   END 


PBINTED  BY  'WILLIAM    CLOWES  AM>  SONS,  LIMITED,  LOM'ON  AKD  BECCLES,  EKtiLAND. 


